


Wanheda

by NicciCrowe



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Azgeda loves fucking shit up, Dark Bellamy, F/M, Finn is alive, Grounder!Bellamy AU, I suck at writing angst but i'm working on it, Kidnapping, Mildly Dubious Consent, alliance marriage, grounder!bellamy, mild Clexa if you squint, put rape/non-con just to be safe, sorta - Freeform, sorta darkish, unfortunately
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-11-29 07:44:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11436312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicciCrowe/pseuds/NicciCrowe
Summary: The Grounders agree to add Skaikru as the 13th clan...on one condition.





	1. Chapter 1

Clarke knew walking in to Polis that she wouldn’t enjoy whatever would happen that day.

First and foremost, because they were striking a final deal with the Commander to be welcomed as the 13th clan, and striking deals meant something had to be offered—given up. Clarke dreaded hearing whatever the grounders would demand of them this time. Secondly, because said Commander was _Lexa_ , and Clarke was still seething quietly with rage and grief at her betrayal at Mount Weather.

The nightmares still hadn’t abated.

She knew the whispers among the grounders. She’d heard them calling her _Wanheda_. Commander of Death. Her brief excursions out of Arkadia after Mount Weather had been enough to alert her to her new status among the grounders, and she couldn’t help but hate it with every fiber of her being. All it sounded like to her was _murderer_.

She stepped into the throne room with Kane and the guard detail following close behind. She refused to meet Lexa’s gaze, instead letting her eyes survey the room curiously, taking in every face of the ambassadors. Leaders of their clans.

One man who she couldn’t help but look at stood off to the side, but closer to Lexa than the others. He was also standing next to Indra and a fierce looking brunette who eyed Clarke with an undisguised sneer. She could practically hear her ‘ _so_ this _is Wanheda?’_ He was handsome, and she wondered who he was that he was standing between the Commander and Indra. A strange thought passed her mind, an odd flash of disappointment that she’d never seen him before now. Almost as if he could sense her looking, his gaze flickered to hers briefly, something dark and appraising in his eyes that made her shiver.

_What?_

“Welcome, _Skaikru_ ,” Lexa’s voice rang out without preamble, and Clarke let her gaze finally move to the girl who almost ruined her life. Her deep brown eyes blazed into hers, and Clarke bit the inside of her cheek, trying to ignore the stab of betrayal and hurt she felt. “You are joining us here today to discuss your joining with the coalition. There has been much debate among us about it, and we have finally reached an agreement, if you will hear our terms,” her eyes swept shrewdly out over the crowd who shifted and muttered quietly. Clarke almost laughed. If Lexa was good at one thing it was brow beating others into submitting to her will.

“We’re deeply honored by your invitation, _Heda_ , and will be happy to hear any terms of the agreement. It’s _Skaikru’s_ deepest wish to join this coalition,” Kane said smoothly with a hand over his heart and a little bow. _Lie,_ Clarke thought bitterly. _Skaikru’s_ only deepest wish was to survive, and currently this was their best option. The genuine thankfulness in his tone seemed to appease Lexa, and she didn’t miss her eyes flickering over to Clarke as if waiting for her to speak up as well. Clarke remained resolutely silent, staring ahead blankly.

“It is the wishes of the clans that you tie yourselves to the coalition more solidly than a simple oath, since you are, after all, not from here,” Lexa continued slowly, and Clarke felt her stomach flip into a knot. _Here we go._

“What would that entail?” Kane asked, trying to sound accommodating and welcome but Clarke didn’t miss the nervous undertone in his voice.

“One of our own has stepped up and offered to help solidify this alliance, and through the joining of one of your people to him then we can—” Lexa cut herself off when Clarke let out an involuntary gasp.

“Marriage?!” she couldn’t help but blurt it out in shock. Lexa set her jaw and nodded, keeping her expression blank.

“Yes. A marriage between our peoples will show that _Skaikru’s_ loyalty is true,” her voice brooked no argument, and Clarke wanted to bark out a bitter, hysterical laugh but she contained herself.

“And let me guess, it has to be a leader,” she said, not entirely keeping the bitterness from her voice. Lexa nodded silently for the first time looking slightly uncomfortable.

“If _Wanheda_ would consent to marry one of our people, then the alliance would be solidified,” Lexa said, almost monotone. Clarke’s eyes closed and she couldn’t tell if she wanted to laugh or collapse and cry, but she squared her shoulders and ignored Kane’s spluttering next to her, settling her gaze back on Lexa. Once again her entire world was being ripped out from under her, but she had to continue on. The speed of her resignation would have concerned her if she wasn’t so determined to survive whatever life on the ground decided to throw at her.

“That’s preposterous! That wasn’t what we—”

“Fine,” Clarke answered quickly over him, and she ignored Kane’s dropped jaw as he rounded on her.

“Clarke!” he hissed, but she resolutely kept her eyes on Lexa, whose stone face would have been quite impressive if Clarke hadn’t known it was complete bullshit.

“If all they require is a marriage, we can’t turn that down. A bloodless solution is what we’re all looking for, and this is it. There is no argument. I consent,” she spoke the last to Lexa, who finally nodded, and sat back down on her throne, almost a little too heavily.

“We have had several volunteers from each clan, but I must admit I am partial to _Trikru_ ,” Lexa barely smirked, and Clarke could see the expressions sour on several of the diplomats’ faces. They may not like the choice because it didn’t favour their clans, but they had to obey Lexa. “If it is fine with you, I’ve selected my candidate for your hand, if you will accept him?” she nodded to the side, and the man she’d been looking at before stepped forward, the brunette next to him looking thunderous as she glared daggers at Clarke.

He was really tall, was the first thing she thought, stupidly. The graceful edge of his cheekbones made his beauty and obvious youth sharp and striking. His skin was tanned, almost shining gold in the fading sunlight from the windows, and his hair sat in a mop of unruly curls atop his head, short and unbraided unlike many of the grounder men’s long done up hair. She finally met his gaze again, and swallowed. His deep brown eyes seemed to pierce right through her and draw her in all at once. The poise he held himself with was unmistakable; he was clearly a man with influence.

“This is Bellamy, the general of _Trikru’s_ army, and I think, the best suited man for the union with _Wanheda_ ,” Lexa said, and Clarke didn’t miss the flash of regret in her eyes that she hid just as quickly as it showed. A sick sense of satisfaction curled in her gut that at some level this was hurting Lexa. _Good. Let her suffer for what she did to us. To me._

“ _Wanheda_ ,” he said, bowing his head slightly, his deep gravelly voice sending miniature shockwaves through Clarke. It was like rumbling thunder, making strange feeling lurch in her chest, mostly due to the awareness that this man was to be her husband, and she would be hearing his voice much more from now on.

Shit. _Husband_.

“Bellamy…” she replied, tasting his name on her tongue. It rolled off so easily, and she shoved away involuntary thoughts of how else she might be saying his name in the future. She inclined her head towards him in return, and Lexa nodded at Clarke’s clear acquiescence.

“This pleases me. We shall set the celebration for three days hence. In the meantime, you two can get to know each other, and ensure the… strength of this alliance.” Her voice was bland, but the slightly awkward lilt that stole into her tone made Clarke fight down a blush. She knew how marriage alliances were _solidified_ , but that was not a conversation she was having with him any time soon.

The room fell into murmurs, and she met Bellamy’s gaze again. He jerked his head towards the door with a slight smirk as if to ask her if she’d like to go with him. She gave him a wry smile in return and nodded, turning and telling Kane she would see him later. Ignoring the older man’s thunderstruck look and protests that they needed to talk, she turned and strode out of the room, knowing Bellamy would catch up to her.

Once out in the hallway, she slowed slightly and he matched his stride with hers. Suddenly her throat was dry, and she was lost for words. She’d just met this man, who in three days’ time would be her _husband_. For life.

“So, Princess, where shall we go for our first walk as betrothed?” he asked, the snarky sarcasm in his voice taking her by surprise. She frowned, shooting a glare at him.

“I’m not a princess, first of all, and second, all that was just posturing in there? You’re actually _not_ fine with this?” she bristled, annoyed at the irrational stab of rejection that went through her.

“On the contrary, I’m actually _very_ interested in this arrangement. It doesn’t hurt that you are also beautiful,” he grinned at her, winking, and she found herself narrowing her eyes and shaking her head.

“Don’t get cocky. I’m only doing this for the alliance,” she reminded him acerbically, and he laughed, a deep, rich sound. They rounded a corner, and Clarke found herself suddenly pinned against the wall, his warm breath fanning across her cheeks. His eyes bored into hers with dark heat that made Clarke’s head spin and warmth bloom between her thighs unbidden.

“Don’t think you can fool me, _Wanheda_. I saw your eyes in the throne room just as I see them now,” his low, rumbling voice was dripping with seductive promise, and Clarke felt her face flushing red. _What is going on?_ He braced his forearms on either side of her, caging her in, and she could feel the evidence of his arousal stirring against her hip as he shifted forward. He leaned down further, his lips barely a breath away from hers. Clarke’s heart pounded so loudly she could almost hear it. “In only a few days, you will be mine. _If_ you can wait that long,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on her lips.

“Keep dreaming, buddy,” she gritted out between her teeth, ignoring the very obvious heat pooling between her thighs in favour of fixing him with her most scathing glare. She was embarrassed and annoyed at how quickly he affected her, and refused to show anything outwardly, but somehow she suspected he saw right through her façade. They stood there, eyes locked in a battle of wills for a moment that seemed to stretch on endlessly, the tension drawing out, waiting for someone to break.

He stepped back suddenly with a roguish smirk, and vanished back around the corner, leaving her reeling there against the wall, trying to get her bearings and cool down the heat that had flared up inside her without warning. _What the hell just happened?_

One thing was for certain, she was definitely in over her head with this grounder.

 

-

 

She didn’t see Bellamy until the next day, when he rode up to her on a huge black stallion as she walked along the street, leading a beautiful brown mare behind him. She raised an eyebrow at him, ignoring the Arkers next to her who were gawping with expressions ranging from shock and confusion, to incredulity, to anger.

“Ride with me, Princess?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow, his eyes dancing with mischief. _Jesus, Clarke, stop thinking about his eyes._

“Not a princess, but I suppose,” she shot back, greeting the mare briefly before swinging onto the saddle. “I’ll meet you back in our quarters later,” she said over her shoulder to the Arkers who had been walking with her, and turned to trot alongside Bellamy through the city out to the woods. _What the hell would Raven think right now,_ she wondered.

He was quiet for the first part of the journey, and Clarke felt herself falling back into her habit of scanning the woods as they slowed down to a walk, hand not far from the knife on her hip.

“No one will attack us here, you know,” he said conversationally, swaying lazily with the cadence of the horse’s steps.

“You say that now, but I know some people in that room didn’t approve of ou… _the_ marriage, so I’d rather keep my guard up thank you very much,” she retorted dryly. Bellamy snickered, bringing his stallion closer to her mare.

“You have better instincts than some of my centurions,” he chuckled, and Clarke flashed him a confused look.

“Did… you just use an Ancient Roman term?” she was completely stunned. To her further surprise, she saw a slight flush mount his high cheekbones.

“I read a few books that survived _Praimfaya_ , and their military structure made more sense than the ragtag army we had at the time, so I made some changes,” he shrugged, trying and failing at nonchalance. Clarke found herself reevaluating the man next to her. His initial façade of cockiness seemed to be a cover-up for what she was beginning to suspect was a vast intelligence.

“That’s amazing,” she admitted, and he shot a surprised look at her. “No, I mean it. The Romans were some of the most advanced military forces of their time, it’s genius to recreate it since this society is mostly back to swords and bows…” she finished thoughtfully, wondering how the Arkers and their guns would be accepted into the mix.

He seemed to read her thoughts. “I’m sure the tactics change greatly when you have extremely deadly long range weapons like guns, much longer than a bow,” he said, and she nodded. There was a pause, then Clarke plucked up some of her courage.

“So, why you? Why not let someone else volunteer for this?” she asked, looking at him curiously. He took a long minute to think about his answer, the only sound in the forest the soft clopping of hooves.

“When Lexa told me this was what she planned, I originally disagreed. I thought it wouldn’t last, and end up weakening the alliance in the long run. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized if it were me, I could personally ensure that it worked,” he finally said, looking thoughtfully off into the trees.

“If you want a job done right do it yourself?” she asked wryly, knowing that was pretty much her exact reasoning for accepting. That, and it was the least bloody solution for peace they’d been offered. _She already had too much blood on her hands._ He chuckled quietly, looking back at her with knowing eyes.

“You know what it takes.” It wasn’t a question, but Clarke nodded anyways. Not every sacrifice for peace had to result in death. He smiled slightly, looking off to the side for a beat. “You would make a good _Heda_ ,” he said, almost casually. Clarke blinked in shock, raising a brow at him.

“Lofty words from the general of the army.” He laughed, turning his horse off the path and they walked a ways before they came upon a little clearing in the woods.

“Lexa knows I’m loyal, so I’m allowed to be exceptionally difficult,” he grinned at her, dismounting and patting his horse affectionately. Clarke huffed a laugh, following suit. Their horses grazed contentedly while he found a good spot and sat down, laying his pack next to him. Clarke only hesitated briefly before sitting down next to him, still keeping a modest distance between them both. He made her unsteady as it was, she didn’t need any more proximity to him to mess with her head. It still made Clarke’s head reel that they were getting married _tomorrow_.

He pulled out a few items of food, sharing half of all of it with her. Clarke couldn’t help but be touched by the small gesture. She realized, suddenly, that she was on a bona fide Grounder picnic. The thought made her giggle, and he shot her a curious look.

“We’re on a picnic,” she explained, but he only looked more confused. She laughed again, shaking her head. “Before the bombs, when everything was nice and the earth was still healthy, people would go to parks and stuff and go on picnics, they’d set out a checkered blanket with a woven basket and eat food. I just…” she shook her head, smiling. “I was born in space, you know, I never thought I’d see the ground, let alone have a _picnic_.” He seemed to understand the simple pleasure she gained from the experience, and gave her a rare close-lipped smile, his eyes sparkling again. Clarke fought a blush, focusing back on her food. So far she had always felt unbalanced around him, as if he altered her equilibrium, or her center of gravity. His eyes were too deep, too expressive for her to hold his gaze, and they bespoke a quiet, calm intelligence that was both unnerving and profound. That is, when he wasn’t being a cocky jerk. She didn’t know what to make of him, and the fact that she was getting _married_ to him in less than two days was reason enough to be downright frightened; but she wasn’t. Wary, yes, frequently annoyed (for obvious reasons,) but not frightened. For some reason she couldn’t put her finger on, she felt inexplicably safe in his presence, regardless if he was an asshole sometimes. (Most of the time.)

“So, Clarke,” he said, and she turned to look at him questioningly. His lips were pulled into a half grin, and her stomach did a nervous flutter.

“What?” her voice was quiet, softer than she intended, but he was closer now, and her heart was racing a thousand miles a minute. His gaze flickered from her lips to her eyes and back again, and Clarke swallowed, trying to ignore the aching heat blooming between her legs again.

“ _Wife…_ ” he murmured, as if testing out the term on his tongue, and Clarke’s lips parted in a slight gasp. He took that opportunity to close the distance between them.

The first touch of his lips against hers was like lightning. It jolted through her, heating nerve endings that she’d never been aware of. His kiss consumed her, his tongue slipping between her teeth to dance with hers, and Clarke found herself kissing him back, ignoring the thrill and the warning bells ringing in her head against kissing a grounder she barely knew.

Before they could do anything else, Clarke heard someone calling their names from a ways away. Bellamy paused his lips on hers, their breaths still mingling. Clarke blushed furiously, trying to get her thoughts firing at a normal speed again. She finally shoved at him hard enough away from her so she could stand up with a huff, patting her hair nervously back into place. He continued to sit there, looking perfectly debauched with smirking, kiss-swollen lips and mussed hair from where she had been running her fingers through it without realizing. He watched her with hooded lids, his eyes slightly unfocused in a way that told her he was thinking of doing many more bad things to her. It was unfair how sinfully good he looked just then, and Clarke wanted to slap herself for getting carried away with a _stranger_. Just because he was charismatic and annoyingly handsome didn’t mean she had to go literally rolling around in the hay with him.

She got back on her horse without looking at him, and she heard him heave a sigh, mounting his horse as well. They turned and trotted back towards the road, but not before Bellamy called over his shoulder,

“We’ll finish this talk later, _Princess_.”

Clarke ignored the lurch in her stomach at his words, and kept her eyes resolutely on the woods, fighting the blush staining her cheeks.

 

-

 

The dawn of her wedding day began without much fanfare. She was given a large tub with warmed water to scrub in, and a few women helped braid her hair into pretty designs. They would only address her as _Wanheda_ , though, and it never failed to send a little stab of pain through her. The faces of those she’d killed flashed through her mind. _Atom. Charlotte. Maya. Those in Mount Weather._

Just before the ceremony was set to start, a loud knock landed on her door. Frowning, she crossed the room to open it, then everything went black.

 

Clarke came to slowly, her vision hazy and her head pounding. She felt something wet and sticky matting her hair together on her right temple, and guessed it was blood from where she was struck. She tried vainly to remember the face of her attacker, but the pounding in her head wouldn’t allow her to focus.

Closing her eyes to get her bearings, she slowly catalogued the pains in her body. Slight concussion, heavily bruised cheek, possible bruised rib, possible sprained ankle. Her wrists and ankles were tied together painfully tight by a rough rope that cut into her skin, and her mouth was gagged with a strip of cloth. All in all, she was definitely in no shape to be sprinting to her escape, but she wasn’t totally incapacitated.

Small victories.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes a sliver again to observe her surroundings without looking overtly awake. She was in some sort of underground dwelling that smelled of wet, cold earth. There was no mustiness to the scent so she didn’t think she was in a basement or a bunker, just a cave. Her skin dug painfully into the rocky floor where she had apparently been haphazardly thrown. Clenching her teeth, Clarke gently tried her bonds, but there was no way she was wriggling out of them without some sort of sharp instrument to cut them.

A shuffling noise came from her side, and she kept her eyes just barely open, trying to see who her captor was. A big man with white and grey clothes, long dirty blonde hair and a beard came in holding a pair of wicked looking swords and a few dead pheasants slung over his shoulder. She noticed the markings on his face and her stomach dropped.

 _Azgeda_.

 “Ah, good, you’re awake,” he rasped, and Clarke almost panicked. How did he know? “The great _Wanheda_ , my prisoner,” he smirked, and Clarke allowed herself to open her eyes fully, knowing her ruse was discovered. She leveled a withering glare at him, but he clearly wasn’t fazed.  “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here, but you’ll find out soon enough.”

He sat down beside what Clarke realized was an unlit firepit, and tugged down her gag so she could speak. After spitting, Clarke tried and failed to get into a sitting position.

“Don’t bother, I already know,” she spat, and he raised his eyebrows as if surprised. “You’re trying to stop _Skaikru_ from joining the coalition, so you kidnapped me to stop the wedding.” She remembered Bellamy suddenly, and felt her stomach drop. What would he think when she didn’t show up to the ceremony?

“In part,” the man laughed, setting about lighting the fire. “Well, since you’ve already guessed half I suppose I should oblige you and tell you the rest. I was banished, and you’re my ticket home back into the queen of _Azgeda’s_ good graces, only because _she_ doesn’t want this merger to happen,” he said matter-of-factly.

Clarke felt her stomach drop again. She had heard stories of the queen of _Azgeda_ and her ruthlessness. Clarke very well may die in this encounter.

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice dripping with anger. He carelessly threw a glance over his shoulder at her.

“My name is Roan. Where you’re going, though, that doesn’t particularly matter.”

 

The next few days of traveling passed in agonizing waiting on Clarke’s part. She had no way to communicate with the Arkers, or Polis, and she could only imagine what had happened since she went missing. Would the coalition break? Would they punish the Arker’s for her disappearance, assuming it was them? Would they realize she’d been kidnapped?

Were they coming to save her?

Every day brought her closer to Azgeda, and Clarke found herself worrying more about her head staying attached to her neck than what may be happening in Polis. She almost felt selfish, but this was yet another situation where she was facing death, and had barely a leg to stand on. Not even that, sometimes.

Clarke kept count of the days they were travelling on foot. So far three days had passed, and the dawning of the fourth brought chillier weather, making Clarke’s heart sink. If she didn’t escape soon, she might be as good as dead.

“Up you get, Wanheda. We’re just a day away from the queen now,” Roan sneered, untying her feet. He checked the knots on her wrists one last time before tugging her up, not bothering to make sure she had her balance. She stumbled, hitting her shoulder hard against the ragged rock of the cave wall they had stayed in that night. She could tell he was being careful about where they traveled and stayed at night, trying to escape detection. She dug in her feet, trying to resist being pulled all the way out of the cave, and he scowled at her, his lip curling.

“This again?”

Clarke didn’t get the chance to retort because an arrow whistled past Roan’s head, and he threw her to the ground, drawing his swords. Clarke scrambled with some difficulty to a sitting position, her hair stuck in her eyes from being tossed to the ground, and she desperately tried to clear her vision to see what was going on.

Roan was engaged in battle with a few warriors, but further off there seemed to be a larger altercation happening. _When did more Azgeda get here?_

And more importantly, _who were the people fighting them?_

Trying to remain very quiet and low to the ground, Clarke essentially army crawled away from the fighting, slowly enough that she hoped to not draw attention to herself, but quickly enough so that she could get a head start back south. She found a few huge boulders to sidle behind, and she slowly stood, eyes scanning the battle that was quickly turning bloody. Everyone was wearing masks so it was difficult to tell who the non- _Azgeda_ warriors were, but Clarke decided it was best if she didn’t take her chances with a random tribe on the off-chance that they might help her rather than just slay her where she stood.

Ducking behind trees and staying low to take advantage of the brush, Clarke made her way away from the battle, wishing she had grabbed a knife or other form of protection. Deciding her bound hands would only be a hindrance, she began scanning for a sharpened rock in the moldering leaves covering the forest floor.

With a soft cry of triumph, she found the perfect rock and set quickly to the task of cutting her bonds. The shouting sounded more distant, now, but Clarke knew she was running on borrowed time. Once they realized she had escaped, she would be hunted mercilessly, and needed to get a huge head start if she was going to have any chance of surviving. She had almost cut through one of the ropes when the cold steel of a sword pressed against her throat, and she froze, panicking.

“I know a wedding wasn’t your first choice, but you didn’t have to get kidnapped to avoid it,” a deep, teasing voice rumbled from behind her. Clarke whirled around, mouth agape at a blood-stained, but smirking Bellamy that stood above her. She couldn’t help herself as she laughed aloud, scrambling to stand upright, and his answering grin was almost blinding. He took his dagger from its sheath on his thigh and quickly finished cutting through her bonds, rubbing the reddened skin gently.

“You came,” she said softly, feeling gratitude sweep through her. He brushed the darkened bruise on her temple with a slight frown, nodding.

“When they came to grab you since you were so late they saw the blood stains on the floor, and Roan was missing along with two horses. Someone said they saw him carrying a body out of the city, and then it was just a matter of finding the trail. I’m sorry this happened,” his gaze darkened with anger, and she nodded, her mouth dry.

“We knew it was a risk… and now we know where _Azgeda’s_ loyalties truly lie. I just want to go home, I wish none of this had happened,” she grimaced, rubbing the blood flow back into her hands. He nodded, his gaze shuttering, then gestured back towards the woods she’d run through.

“I have horses waiting for us, we should return as soon as possible,” he said, but his voice had lost its warmth, and he turned and walked off briskly, leaving Clarke confused. It was like a switch had flipped and suddenly he was acting cold and distant towards her.

He didn’t look at her the entire journey home, and Clarke couldn’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach as his frosty silence continued. He stormed off on his own almost the minute they stepped foot into Polis, and Clarke tried to ignore the angry hurt that blazed in her chest at his treatment. She trudged off to go talk to Lexa, knowing they would need to discuss the alliance again.

 

She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised that Lexa wanted the marriage to go on as if nothing happened. Bellamy wouldn’t look at her, instead staring resolutely forward, refusing to even glance in her direction. _So, he really didn’t want to do this,_ Clarke thought bitterly, ignoring the familiar irrational stab of rejection and hurt.

She scolded herself that entire day leading up to the ceremony for ever thinking he cared.

She couldn’t help but think back on his flirtations and the way he looked at her when she was recovered from Roan. He had seemed… but then again, what did Clarke know? She was _Wanheda_ , and was sure the prospect of marrying her for real was now sinking in and disgusting him. Maybe he had secretly been glad when Roan abducted her, she thought bitterly.

The wedding proceeded without a hitch this time, and as she was repeating the Grounder vows back to the priest, Bellamy still wouldn’t meet her eyes, his gaze blank and emotionless. Their palms were cut and bound together, and Clarke swore the heat of him would burn her skin, but he pulled his hand away as soon as they were unbound and that hurt, too, and she hated it. The cheers from the crowd were a distant thunder storm as Clarke felt a deep pit of misery curl through her gut at his complete apathy. He never truly wanted her, it was all a ruse to get her to let her guard down. Anger replaced the hurt, hot and acidic in her stomach, and she held onto that as they walked towards their now joint suite after the reception feast to the tune of lewd cheers and whistles.

They stepped into the bedroom, and Clarke crossed her arms over her chest, feeling self conscious. He ignored her studiously, moving around to organize his things and shed his outermost layers.

Clarke couldn’t help the slight dread that pooled in her stomach as she stood across from the man she was marrying to form an alliance. Her brain screamed at her about the consent of this act, and she knew that it was so wrong and fucked up but she was doing this for her people. What a small price indeed to pay for peace, prosperity. She remembered his words from a few days ago bitterly, _if you can wait that long_. Clearly it was all bullshit.

“I’m thankful for you saving me, but this is still just for the alliance,” she reminded him stonily, and he didn’t answer, choosing just to stare at her with that unreadable expression on his face. At least he was looking at her now, she thought sardonically.

Deciding to just get this over with, she let the wisp of fabric they’d insisted was a dress flutter to the ground and stepped carefully out of it. She lay silently on the bed, trying to ignore how uncomfortable her nakedness is for her. He didn’t take much time to shed his own clothing and move over to her, settling between her legs after prying them open since she couldn’t help but resist it a little. She thought she saw a flare of desire in his eyes but he quickly hid it with a neutral expression.

He surprised her, though, and moved down so his breath was ghosting over her center which was achingly hot and wet against her wishes. She may have been in an arranged marriage with an unwilling partner but she wasn’t _blind,_ and even if a small part of her mind said this couldn’t be consensual because she was technically being forced into it there was an even larger part that was sneering at her about _lying to herself_. Her husband was sinfully attractive, annoyingly so. She’d noticed him the day they came to Polis, even with Lexa commanding so much of her attention. Of course, when Lexa had suggested a marriage for alliance Clare hadn’t expected in a million years for Bellamy to step forward and offer himself as a partner for the merger. He was cocky, from what Clarke had seen, abrasive, arrogant at times, and completely and utterly gorgeous.

He didn’t care about her, and he was going to destroy her.

She didn’t miss his soft groan as he ghosted his lips up her inner thighs, making her squirm a little. His hands held her hips heavily in place, and he continued to take his time breathing her in, brushing the lightest of teasing kisses up her thighs, his lips hot against her skin.

At one point Clarke huffed in frustration, and a dark chuckle left his throat.

“Want something, Princess?” he asked, his smug tone indicating that he knew exactly what she wanted, but she resolutely kept her lips shut and jaw clenched. She would not verbally consent to this on concept, (especially after the way he’d been treating her,) regardless of what her slightly churning hips were saying _for_ her. It was strange to hear him speaking to her again, and it didn’t help that it was about something so inappropriate.

“Hmm… such a pretty pussy,” he sighed, nosing at her clit and Clarke couldn’t stop a slight gasp. “And all mine,” he continued, the lust throbbing in his voice, making Clarke bite back a whimper. She’d seen his darkened gaze in the throne room before the merger had even been brought up. He’d looked at her as if he wanted to devour her, and now that she was splayed open for him for the taking Clarke could barely breathe. She wasn’t sure whether she preferred him pretending to be interested in her like this or the apathy better, now, since she felt like she might combust into flames at any moment.

The first touch of his tongue against her jolted her from her reverie, and she couldn’t help the strangled gasp that tore from her throat. He repeated the action, settling over her clit with long, lazy swipes of his tongue. He held her hips down as he sucked her clit, her hips bucking off the bed as the pleasure began to grow ever higher, the heat blazing between her thighs almost too much to handle.

His fingers slid between her folds, teasing at her entrance while his tongue traced circles on her clit, eliciting a clipped cry from her. Taking that as encouragement, he slid one finger deep into her, crooking it in a _come hither_ motion, brushing against her g-spot like an expert. Clarke arched off the bed, having almost completely abandoned her stubborn resistance to the pleasure, because who is she kidding. She might not have wanted this but she couldn’t deny the way he was playing her body like a finely tuned instrument.

He added another finger, flicking his tongue faster now as he fucked her deep and slow, curling them forward with every thrust in. Clarke keened, eyes screwing shut as she felt herself starting to peak, her hips gyrating as she tried to fuck herself on his fingers as much as he’ll allow her to move with his other arm pressing firmly down on her hips, keeping her in place.

She flew off the edge with a series of skillful flicks of his tongue, and before she could even blink he was moving up and sliding his hard member between her folds, pressing inside of her. She tried to bite back a heavy moan, but couldn’t completely stop it, and he groaned in answer. He pumped his hips several times until he was fully seated in her, their breaths mixing harshly in the low-lit room.

“ _Mine_ ,” he growled, pulling back and fucking hard into her, eliciting a sharp cry from her. Clarke shook her head desperately, her fingers somehow clawing at his shoulders already as he set a punishing pace, leaving a trail of hot, biting kisses down her throat. She felt so full, so utterly taken by this man she barely even knew.

When she started to tighten, he flipped her over without preamble, spreading her legs open a little with a nudge of his knee and he slid into her again, his stomach flush with her back as she was pressed into the bed. He pinned her wrists next to her head on either side, his hips the only part of him moving as he rutted into her, groaning quiet, dirty things in Trigedasleng in her ear, filling Clarke with heat and shame because against her wishes, she liked it. She liked feeling him fuck her and whisper filthy things to her, and that was a jarring realization in itself. He picked up his pace, leaning back to thrust harder, and within moments Clarke was screaming into the pillows, cresting over the edge and clamping down onto his large girth shuttling in and out of her, the pleasure rolling through her like an avalanche.

“You can lie to yourself, _Wanheda_ ,” he whispered in her ear, “You can want to leave this, but I’m going to make you keep coming on my cock, and you’re going to keep loving it,” he growled low in her ear, and Clarke felt a mixture of lust, anger, and humiliation sweep through her, her pulsating pussy betraying her and she knew it. He just had to rub it in, didn’t he? That she was his even if he didn’t really want her.

She could tell he was chasing his own pleasure now as he increased the force and speed of his thrusts, his fingers wrapping her hair around his fist and pulling none-too-gently, and Clarke couldn’t help but love the slight pain. Clarke felt tears prick at her eyes, her body betraying her as she felt the pleasure starting to crest again, the head of his cock brushing against her g-spot with every thrust. She tried to stifle her moans, but he was hitting her cervix with every thrust and Clarke was quickly losing all sense of reality as she started tightening on him again.

“Fuck, Clarke, _yes_ , come for me baby,” he groaned in her ear and it was too much for her. Clarke fell over the edge, a long, low wail tearing from her throat as she came and came, feeling like she might pass out from the pleasure. A guttural groan tore from his throat as his hips slammed into hers a few more times before she felt him release into her, his cock twitching hard inside of her, making her whimper. Clarke felt marked, completely ruined, and by a man who couldn’t care less about her, and this loveless marriage was what she had to look forward to for the rest of her life. She turned her head away to stifle her tears silently into the pillow as he slowly pulled out, collapsing next to her with a deep breath.

The silence stretched between them heavily, until he finally sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

Clarke’s eyes shot open, but he was already turned away from her, his shoulders hunched. Suddenly, anger bloomed in her chest.

“What, for fucking me like a whore you don’t give a shit about? Or for ever offering yourself for the marriage?” she spit out venomously, and she watched with satisfaction as his shoulders tensed. He turned, glaring daggers at her, and it would be breathtaking if she wasn’t so angry herself.

“It must be amazing to live in a world where you’re this fucking oblivious to others,” he snarled, and Clarke gaped at him in utter shock and revulsion.

“What the hell does that mean?!”

Bellamy scoffed. “Don’t even try to pretend, Princess. You made it very clear where you stand on this entire situation, no need to pretend just because I figured out your bullshit,” he stood up from the bed suddenly, stalking furiously to the other side of the room. Clarke clenched her jaw in anger, her nails pricking into her palms as she sat up and glared at him from across the room.

“Please, elaborate, because I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. You’re the one that’s been acting like this whole thing is your god damn funeral,” she bit out, and he turned, his eyes like thunder.

“As if you don’t know why.”

“As if I…” she laughed, actually laughed, and his scowl only deepened. “As if I don’t know why? Oh, I _do_ know why. You’re pissed the wedding actually had to go on, I bet you even wish _Azgeda_ had just taken care of the problem for you, so you didn’t have to bother going through with all this,” she waved her hand around to encompass their room. Bellamy became very quiet, and she drew herself up, setting her jaw and preparing herself for the worst. His eyes narrowed at her, and he grew very still.

“Excuse me?” his voice was dangerously quiet, and Clarke tried to ignore the trepidation it sent through her.

“You heard me,” she gritted out, not liking at all the expression shadowing his face. He took a few strides closer, rounding the corner of the bed slowly, looking like a panther stalking its prey. Clarke tried to swallow down the nerves fluttering in her stomach.

“You think I wish _Azgeda_ had _taken care_ of you?” his voice was still dangerously quiet, throbbing with anger, and Clarke rolled her eyes.

“I can take a hint, Bellamy, and the entire journey home told me plenty enough about how you feel. For all your acting the first few days, you really had me convinced,” she spat, hating that some of the rejection and hurt had seeped into her voice.

He didn’t answer her, only stood in front of her, gloriously naked and to her chagrin, aroused again. She clenched her jaw, refusing to look lower than his eyes. He leaned down, caging her in with an arm on either side of her much like the first day they met, his dark eyes blazing into hers.

“You said you wanted to go home, that you wished none of this had happened,” his voice was barely above a whisper, throbbing with anger. Clarke’s brow furrowed in confusion, but it was also becoming harder and harder to think. She opened her mouth to correct him, but his face was too close and the words died on her lips. “I think, _Wanheda_ , that you just didn’t want to go through with this yourself. You want to run back to the safety of your Ark, and the safety of those _boys_ ,” his voice was a low growl that seemed to reverberate in her chest, and her glare deepened into incredulity.

“You’re delusional, I’d just been captured…!”

“You think I don’t know who you’re trying to get back to?” he snapped, and guiltily Clarke thought of Finn, but how would Bellamy know… “I saw you, _Wanheda_. I was in charge of spying on your camp when you first came from the sky. I know you have a lover,” his hand came up to wrap around her throat, not squeezing hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a thrill of danger throughout Clarke.

“He has someone, that’s over. If you were even a half decent spy you would know that,” she glared at him, hating herself for wanting him so much even at that moment when he was practically threatening her.

Especially in that moment.

With a slight push, he pinned her flat against the bed by her throat, kicking her legs apart so he could stand between them. Clarke tried to ignore the pulsing heat between her thighs, and how wrong it was that this turned her on, but it seemed she wasn’t going to get any reprieve from him tonight.

“I don’t share, _Clarke_ ,” he said darkly, sliding the head of his heavy member against her entrance. Clarke couldn’t help the little arching of her hips at his touch, and he leered at her. “Such a greedy little girl, wanting my cock so badly,” he pressed into her slowly, and Clarke cried out, trying to ignore the hot flush of her cheeks at his filthy words. He thrusted into her slowly, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly on her throat.

“Fuck you,” she spit out, and he laughed, ignoring her nails which were digging hard into the arm he was holding her down with.

“You’re mine, _Wanheda_ , whether you want it or not,” he growled, and began pounding into her, her overly sensitive walls already trembling. Clarke couldn’t help the moans tearing out of her throat as he fucked her hard and fast, taking her with an edge of anger that should have worried her but only served to turn her on.

“Do you want to go home, now? Did you change your mind about this?” he circled his hips, brushing hard against her g-spot and Clarke’s breath rushed out at the stab of pleasure that lanced through her.

“No—” she tried, but then his mouth was on hers in a hot, dominating kiss, and Clarke was lost. There was nothing gentle or compromising about this, and Clarke began to realize he’d thought she truly didn’t want to go through with the arrangement. She pushed at him, trying to get enough space to talk. “Bellamy, _listen!_ ” she practically yelled at him and he pulled back, glaring at her, still buried all the way inside of her. “I always wanted this alliance, I still do, how could you think I don’t?”

His lip curled, anger still tightening at his eyes. “You said so yourself.”

She rolled her eyes, huffing, and pushed at him suddenly so that he was flat on his back on the bed, and she was hovering over him. He looked pissed off, but didn’t protest. “You are the dumbest person I know, honestly,” she bit out acerbically, and his angry expression would have convinced her if his hands hadn’t trailed lightly over her hips and ass, palming at her soft skin.

“Please explain, O great _Wanheda_ ,” he said loftily, and it was her turn to narrow her eyes at him.

“You were the one that turned away, not the other way around,” she let her dripping core brush lightly over his hot, hard length, and the lust that clouded his eyes was unmistakable, but he was more docile now; somewhat placated. She let her nails trail over the hard lines of his abs, feeling them clench under her touch. He wasn’t as unaffected as he acted, and Clarke felt a thrill of triumph at that.

“Well, you made me believe you were done with this,” he answered with a shrug, clasping his hands behind his head in a show of nonchalance, but Clarke could feel his hips arching slightly up towards her. _Men are so stupid_. “But by all means, _Wanheda_ , take what you need from your husband,” he smirked, and Clarke suddenly felt all the tension leave her, and she returned his smirk, rolling her hips again and grinding down on his cock. His resulting groan was the sweetest victory, and Clarke took her time sinking back down onto him, relishing in the sweet stretch of her walls. Bellamy gazed at her with hooded eyes as she rode him, rolling her hips with every downward thrust so he brushed against her g-spot every time. His eyelids fluttered, and Clarke smirked, loving that he was completely in her power now.

“That’s it, Princess, take it all,” he murmured, and Clarke clenched down at his words, biting her lip helplessly. She felt the familiar heat beginning to unfurl at the base of her spine, and her nails bit into his pecs that were glistening slightly from his earlier exertion.

Clarke’s head fell back as she rolled her hips harder, and Bellamy’s quiet moan almost sent her toppling over the edge. She felt his hands move to rest on her hips, pulling her harder against him with every rock forward, thrusting his hips up at the same time. Her cries grew louder and louder, and she finally tightened on him until her mouth fell open in ecstasy and she clawed at his chest as the pleasure slammed through her, taking her breath away.

“ _Fuck_ , Clarke, so beautiful coming on my cock,” Bellamy moaned, thrusting up harder as Clarke’s hips stuttered and lost their rhythm in her bliss. She collapsed forward, leaning her head on his shoulder and he took that opportunity to start fucking up into her in earnest. She keened, sinking her teeth into the hard muscle of his shoulder as he fucked her through her orgasm, making her head spin at the pleasure.

“Please…” she moaned without thinking, and Bellamy flipped them over without warning, pushing her legs up around his shoulders and continuing his hard and fast thrusts.

“You like that, Princess?” he growled, nipping at her throat as Clarke’s moans only grew more wanton. The sound of their skin slapping together mixed with their breathy moans filled the room, and Clarke glanced the shadow of their love making out of the corner of her eye, thrown into sharp relief against the wall.

“ _Bellamy_!” she almost wailed, feeling herself already cresting again. That seemed to do him in and he gasped, pounding into her a few more times before spilling himself inside her, his cock throbbing against her walls. Their panting mixed in the air as they both slowly came down from their high, and Clarke slowly loosened her fingers from where she had been scratching at his back in the height of her pleasure.

The silence seemed to echo around them as they settled down beside one another, still breathing a little hard. Clarke could see him frowning out of the corner of his eye, and she raised her head curiously.

“I thought you ran away,” he finally said quietly, and Clarke grimaced, feeling a slight stab of regret at his words.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and he sighed, shaking his head.

“When we realized it was _Azgeda_ … I thought you were dead. That was worse,” he grimaced, and Clarke didn’t know what to say, so she just lay there quietly, watching his profile in the dim light. He looked so troubled, that Clarke threaded her fingers through his without thinking. She tensed up as she realized what she did, but he held her hand firmly, brushing his thumb over her skin, and Clarke tried desperately to ignore how that felt. They had gone from hating each other to cuddling in the span of a night and it was making her head reel.

“I would have escaped before they did anything to me,” she said confidently, trying for a lighter tone; and he snorted quietly.

“ _Azgeda_ have always caused problems in the coalition. I’m just sorry you had to be a victim of it. We may be married to avoid war, but I still… want you to be safe,” he grimaced, his voice quiet. Clarke’s heart skipped at his hesitation, but she let it go, knowing there was probably nothing to it. Theirs was a marriage of political gain, nothing more. She couldn’t afford to think any differently.

“Well, I’m alright now, and that’s what matters. I’m going to bed,” she said softly, turning and burrowing into her pillow, drawing the blanket up around her. Bellamy hummed quietly in agreement, settling in next to her, and Clarke drifted off to sleep, her last thought of how her life had changed so drastically in just a few days, and wondering what it would lead to.


	2. It's not as easy as it looks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and Angst and Jealousy oh my!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Typically if enough people pester me, I will give in. Here you go, chapter 2 painstakingly ripped from my unwilling mind cause this story has been recalcitrant from the start.
> 
> Also Clarke curses a lot when she's mad.

Clarke woke softly with the morning light filtering through the window. She was so warm and comfortable she never wanted to move again. With a soft purr, she burrowed into the warmth, tightening her arms around…

Bellamy.

Her breath caught, slightly embarrassed that she had apparently been wrapped around him for the better part of the night and morning, if the slight puddle of drool on his shoulder was any indication. She winced, trying to subtly wipe it off, stifling a laugh at how gross it was. She heard a deep grumble resembling a rock slide beneath her ear and two strong arms wound around her, squeezing her until a little breath escaped her lungs.

“Mmm…” Bellamy sighed, nuzzling into her hair, still clearly asleep, and Clarke wanted to slap herself at the soft melting in her chest it caused. He couldn’t be sinfully attractive _and_ cute in the morning. He could only be one. It wasn’t fair.

Wasn’t he some bad ass warrior dude?

Clarke tried to wiggle out of his grasp, and pouted her lips when she couldn’t, very firmly stuck against his chest. She sighed quietly, resigning herself to her fate, and rested her head back on his shoulder, deciding to snooze until he woke.

What must have been half an hour later due to the sun’s angle but only felt like two minutes to Clarke, Bellamy began snoring quietly, jolting her from her half-sleep state. She huffed, frowning. _Rude_. She tried again to fall asleep, smiling wryly to herself that this might be what she had to get used to now that they were married and all.

God, that’s so strange to think about.

“Clarke…” he sighed, and she lifted her head expectantly but… he was still asleep. Her mouth popped open in surprise, her stomach doing a somersault. He was dreaming. About _her_.

 _Oh no_.

A little while into her internal freak out, Clarke felt him stir under her, and he sighed again, sounding more awake.

“G’mornn’,” he mumbled into her hair, squeezing his arms again, and Clarke contemplated how it would look if she slapped herself. Again.

“Hey sleepy,” she replied instead to his shoulder, feigning nonchalance. He rumbled a quiet laugh, sighing again, not appearing to want to move any time soon.

“Not yet,” he protested when she pushed at his shoulder, turning slightly so she was half smothered under him now. She squeaked in protest, half laughing and half trying to catch her breath being crushed under his bulk.

“Bell’mee,” she complained, her voice muffled against his chest.

“So _needy_ ,” he groaned against the pillow, his tone edging into teasing, but he finally obliged and rolled off her enough so she could breathe. She huffed in indignation, having a hard time believing that waking up with Bellamy was simultaneously such a process and so fucking cute at the same time.

God damn it.

“We have to get up eventually,” she hinted to him, and he lifted his head to level a (disgustingly) sleepy glare at her.

“You’re a horrible person, you know that, right?” he pouted, before unceremoniously flopping his head back onto the pillow. “Issou ‘onnymoon,” he insisted, voice muffled against the fabric. Clarke let out an exasperated breath.

“Who knew the General of an army could be so damn lazy,” she quipped, but he only hummed in agreement, moving his face to the crook of her neck.

Stop. _Stop stop stop._

Shit.

Taking a deep breath and gathering the vestiges of her composure, Clarke pushed on his shoulder, but he still wouldn’t budge.

“ _Bellamy!_ ” she whined, and his only answer was to trail his hand up her bare thigh to her hip, kneading her skin. She inhaled sharply, the light teasing air between them replaced suddenly with a slow, sultry tension.

“ _Wife,_ ” he echoed teasingly, sliding his knee between her legs, and Clarke felt his quickly hardening arousal pressing insistently against her hip.

This man would be the death of her. She just knew it.

Her protests died on her lips as he rocked his hips slowly, almost languidly against her, and she felt her eyes fluttering shut at the heat throbbing in her core in response. His knee slid upwards, until his thigh had full contact with her aching heat, and she gasped.

An insistent knock at the door shattered their heated little bubble.

“I’ll kill them,” Bellamy swore menacingly, and Clarke blushed, using his distraction to wiggle out from underneath him, but she didn’t get too far because his hand had a vice grip on her hip.

“What is it?” she called, shooting a glare at Bellamy who had suddenly gotten a mischievous glint in his eye and was leaving slow wet kisses along her shoulder, his hand trailing around and up her inner thigh, barely teasing her wet core.

“Clarke, it’s Kane. Are you available to talk? Also, Lexa wants you and Bellamy in the throne room in an hour, so you’ll have to find him and tell him,” he called through the door, and Clarke squeezed her eyes shut. She took a shaking breath, trying to focus around Bellamy’s fingers which had slid inside of her, pumping slowly in and out while he started grinding his erection against her hip again.

“Um… yeah I can, just—ah, give me a—” her breath caught as his fingers curled inside of her, hard, and she bit back a deep moan, her nails digging into his biceps. “Minute,” she finally said, burying her face in his shoulder to stifle her pants as he moved his fingers faster, curling them with every thrust in. Pleasure coiled quickly in her gut as Bellamy’s free hand trailed up her stomach to tweak her nipples, pinching and rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, sending lightning bolts of sensation straight to her clit. Kane was saying something else, and she really, really tried to hear what it was but her orgasm was fast approaching, and Bellamy was whispering in her ear now.

“Your pretty little cunt is so tight, Clarke, does it like my fingers? Do you want more, baby?” his teeth captured her earlobe, and Clarke felt herself starting to peak, her suppressed moans more like quiet whines against his tanned skin.

“We can discuss the details later, okay? …Clarke?” Kane’s voice jolted her back to reality, his tone becoming concerned. Clarke swallowed hard, her eyes screwing shut as her inner walls fluttered around Bellamy’s fingers that were fucking her in earnest now.

“Yeah!” she called, hoping it didn’t sound like a moan, and Bellamy chuckled quietly in her ear, moving down suddenly to suck on her clit, swiping his tongue over it in quick circles.

Clarke came with a silent scream, her back bowing off the bed as ecstasy thundered through her, Bellamy’s tongue relentless on her, licking up every drop of wetness that spilled from her.

“Come find me before you head to the throne room, okay?” _Jesus fucking Christ_. Clarke couldn’t believe Kane was _still_ at the door, and she managed a halfhearted agreement that definitely sounded wrong as Bellamy spread her legs and pressed the head of his engorged cock inside her without preamble.

Kane replied something else but Clarke was past hearing, eyes rolling back in her head as Bellamy worked his hard member inside of her, bottoming out with a soft groan.

“So wet and hot for me, Princess,” he whispered in her ear, moving her wrists above her head so they were pinned to the mattress. He mouthed at her pulse point, his teeth sending shockwaves of pleasure through her as he steadily increased the speed and force of his thrusts.

“ _Bell,_ ” she whimpered, already feeling another orgasm building, helpless under the onslaught of pleasure.

“Give it to me, Clarke, wanna feel you come around me so fucking tight,” he groaned, biting her shoulder, the bed creaking slightly with his movements, the sound of their skin meeting filling the air. Clarke was drowning in sensual pleasure, pulling at her wrists because she desperately wanted to touch him, but he held her fast, chuckling darkly at her efforts.

“Mine,” he growled, and it sent Clarke over the edge. She stifled her long, wrecked moan against his shoulder, sinking her teeth into his deltoid. “Oh, _fuck,_ ” he groaned, his hips stuttering then slamming into her as he came, his forehead pressed against hers.

They lay there, panting into each other’s mouths as they slowly came down from their high, Bellamy moving his hips slightly to draw out their pleasure. Clarke whimpered, already oversensitive, and he finally drew out, falling heavily next to her, his arm and leg draped haphazardly over her.

Clarke’s heart finally slowed, and she shot him a scowl from the side of her eyes. He only grinned in response.

“Good morning.”

 

-

 

They were only a few minutes late to Lexa’s meeting, and Kane’s urgently annoyed look made Clarke flush red. She had completely forgotten his request that they meet beforehand. She didn’t even know what it was about, but it was too late now, so she jerked her head towards Bellamy apologetically, her lips flattening. She really, really hoped he didn’t read into it, but Lexa called the meeting and she had to turn her attention to her.

Throughout the entire meeting Bellamy stood entirely too close to her, distracting her from listening to Lexa discuss the issue of _Azgeda_ and the challenge the queen had essentially made to Lexa’s command. His hand rested lightly on the small of her back as they listened, radiating heat onto her skin and Clarke felt hyperaware of the steady weight. His rumbling voice seemed to vibrate through her, and she couldn’t help noticing (with a petty flicker of satisfaction) Lexa’s eyes flicker down to Bellamy’s hand on Clarke several times.

She tried to ignore the electricity that flickered through her when one of his fingers (accidentally?) slipped under the cloth of her shirt and brushes against her bare skin. For some reason it filled Clarke with panic; there was something too intimate about him touching the soft skin of her back in front of everyone and as soon as the meeting wrapped up she practically bolted from the room, even ignoring Kane in her bid for freedom, though she couldn’t ignore the feeling of Bellamy’s eyes burning on the back of her neck the entire way.

She was in way over her head, and it was only the second day of her marriage.

_Fuck._

_Marriage._

She spent the rest of the day busy with different Arkers, but then it was time to talk on the radio with Abby and she balked, literally skidding to a stop at the doorway to their meeting room. Kane glanced up at her, crossing his arms and frowning in a resigned kind of way.

“I figured you may have wanted to be the first one to tell her. All I said was that we made a solid alliance with them but she’d have to ask you for the details,” he sighed, standing and walking over to her. “I know a lot has happened to you in the last few days, Clarke, but we really need to strategize before meetings like that in the future.” Clarke didn’t miss the slight reprimand in his voice.

“I know, I’m sorry Kane,” she sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “Bellamy took longer to deal with than I thought,” she grimaced, the half lie slipping easily from her teeth. _When did it become so easy to lie?_

The radio crackled then, and a muffled _Kane?_ came from it. Anxiety flipped through Clarke’s stomach, and she swallowed. Hard.

“Does she know Roan kidnapped me?” she asked quickly, and to her dismay Kane nodded.

“I’m sorry, Clarke, but we had to tell her as soon as it happened, in case…” his voice faltered, and she gritted her teeth, nodding in assent. It was a long shot, but she had hoped to avoid telling her mother to side step the resulting drama.

Finally, Clarke heaved another heavy sigh and sat down at the chair in front of the radio. She picked it up gingerly, her finger hesitating over the button before gathering her courage and pressing down.

“Hi mom.”

“Clarke!” the frantic reply was instant, and her eyes shut tightly. “Are you okay? What happened? What was the deal you made to form the alliance? Are you hurt?” the questions came rapid fire, and she wished she could just sink down into the floor and disappear.

“I’m fine, mom. The prince of _Azgeda_ thought he could use me to gain back favor with the queen, but…” _Bellamy found me_. “Lexa’s forces found me first and he’s in prison here, now. _Azgeda_ is in hot water now, too, though the queen obviously denies involvement with the plot, not that we believe her.”

“And the alliance?”

Of course Abby Griffin wouldn’t be distracted. Clarke was silent for a long minute, trying to find the words to tell her mother. How does one announce a marriage over walkie talkie anyways?

Crackle. “Clarke?”

“I’m here mom, So… Lexa required a more… solid form of alliance, and I agreed to it. I’m fine, and it’s been… it’s worked out fine. I’m okay with it.”

“Clarke, what are you talking about? _What did you do?_ ” her mother sounded markedly more tense, and Clarke tried to swallow around the dryness in her mouth. She winced, and gathered the last of her waning courage.

“She asked that Wanheda marry the general of her army to solidify the alliance,” she finally said, keeping her voice apathetic. It felt like the floor was falling out from under her.

“ _What?!_ ”

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, mom. It had to be done. It’s the only bloodless solution we’ve been offered and I couldn’t risk any more lives,” she said with finality, strengthening her resolve and setting her jaw.

There was a long silence from the radio, and Clarke rubbed a hand over her face again, wondering how in the world she had ended up here. Confessing to her mother over a radio that she had married a man whose ancestors had survived the nuclear apocalypse and was the general of the resulting war like society.

_You know, just another day on the ground._

“Why did you not ask me first?” her mother’s voice crackled over the radio furiously, and Clarke laughed humourlessly.

“Because of this exact conversation we’re having right now. How would you have reacted?” Silence. “I needed to make a choice, mom, and this is the choice with the least risk to anyone.”

“But there was obviously risk to _you_ ,” Abby shot back, and Clarke smiled wryly. She had her there.

“Well, Bellamy found me, so it ended up fine,” she said, then winced again at what she let slip.

“Bellamy?” _Nothing is ever easy._

“Yes, that’s his name,” she sighed, the headache that had started between her eyes sometime during the conversation growing in intensity. There was a slight pause, then a different voice crackled over the radio.

“Well, Clarke, you really messed up this time,” Raven quipped cheerfully, and Clarke let out a genuine laugh.

“Hey, Raven. Is…” she bit her lip.

“She had to take a walk, but I heard everything. So, married, huh?” Clarke could imagine Raven’s casual lean against the table, eyebrow raised sardonically. She felt a sudden ache for the brunette, missing her friend keenly.

“Yeah… but it makes sense, right?” she asked, an edge of desperation colouring her tone. Raven was quiet for a few moments.

“Nothing is ever simple on the ground, Clarke. It does make sense, and you’re brave for doing it. I don’t know what it’ll mean from now on, but…” she paused, and Clarke felt relief wash through her at Raven’s approval. If Raven approved, it couldn’t be that wrong. “If it keeps our people safe, then it’s worth it, right?”

Clarke sighed, leaning heavily on her forearms. “I hope so. I just wanted the best solution for our people, and…” she smiled wryly. “He’s not… awful,” she laughed quietly, and she could almost feel Raven’s interest perk up.

“Oh? Details, Princess,” she teased, and Clarke found herself smiling in spite of herself.

“Uh… he’s, well… unfortunately very good looking,” she admitted, and a peel of laughter came from over the radio.

“Oh my god! You totally have a crush on your Grounder husband! Damn, who are you and what have you done with Clarke Griffin?”

“Shut up,” Clarke said without any heat, and Raven laughed again. She didn’t want to think about the strange twinge in her chest when Raven had accused her of having feelings for Bellamy. _Too soon._

“Oh don’t worry, every single person in Arkadia is going to hear about this,” Raven sounded way too cheerful. “Anyways, now for the important discussion. Have you and he…” Raven trailed off suggestively, and she felt her face flame red.

“Goodbye Raven!”

“ _Holy shit. Clarke!_ ”

Clarke quickly switched off the radio, shaking her head with a laugh.

“A crush?”

Clarke whirled around, eyes wide to see Bellamy leaning against the door jamb, arms crossed over his broad chest. The smug glint in his eyes made her think he knew exactly what Raven had meant by crush, and she masked her embarrassment with anger.

“You could announce yourself next time, it’s incredibly rude,” she sniped at him, standing and crossing her arms to mirror him. He only raised an eyebrow, eyes moving to the radio.

“How does that allow you to communicate with your people?” he asked, suddenly changing the topic and Clarke narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious at this new tactic.

“Radio waves, we match frequencies and then can talk over the air,” she explained, and he frowned, looking harder at the box.

“Waves? Like the ocean?” Clarke hated how his genuine curiosity and confusion lent an… innocent air about him, and she screamed at herself internally to focus and get her mind off of whatever strange train of thought it had gone on.

“Uh, yeah, sort of. But invisible, like…” she frowned, not knowing how to properly explain radio waves to a Grounder. Raven would be better able to, but no way in hell was she letting Raven talk to her… to Bellamy.

Ugh.

“Like?”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” she snapped, her frustration bubbling over into unnecessary anger, and he narrowed his eyes at her.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

They both stared at each other for an uncomfortable moment, and Clarke tried not to feel bad that she was being rude to him.

“I have to go talk to Kane, so if you’ll excuse me…” she said suggestively, and a muscle in his jaw ticked, but he stood aside, letting her pass, but not before grabbing her wrist and jerking her to a stop right next to him. Clarke hated the way the roughness of his callouses sent little shocks over her skin, the way the heat of his body seemed to beat against her from a foot away.

“You’re avoiding me,” he accused, and something like shame burned in Clarke’s cheeks.

“I’m busy,” she lied, trying to keep eye contact, but the set of his mouth told her he didn’t believe a word she was saying.

“Regretting this already?” he threw her words from last night back at her with a glare, and her throat tightened, anxiety flipping in her chest.

“No! I…” she clenched her jaw, trying not to let something spill that she didn’t want him to know. _You make me feel things._ “I’m just, still getting used to it, you know? And does this really have to be a… a marriage where we’re constantly together?” she hated herself as soon as the words came out of her mouth, and she watched his expression close off, and he dropped her wrist like she’d stung him.

“Of course not, Wanheda,” he said blankly, and left without another word, leaving Clarke with an awful, acidic feeling churning in her stomach.

 

He wasn’t in their room that night when she returned, and she fell uneasily to sleep, wondering where he was and how poorly he’d taken her words.

When he still wasn’t there when she woke, she sighed, trying to shake off her anxiety and go about her day as normal. There were trade agreements to hash out with the other clans, as well as boundaries with _Trikru_ that needed to be arranged since _Skaikru_ was still technically on their land.

Not to mention the whole mess with _Azgeda_.

The day passed with barely a glimpse of Bellamy, and Clarke knew she was being irrational for feeling hurt, since she was the one that had pushed him away in the first place, but all of this was too new, their chemistry and… everything was just too much to handle right now. She needed time to think, and maybe space was a good thing. She kept repeating that to herself every time she saw a dark head and perked up only to see that it wasn’t Bellamy.

She was asked earlier in the day to have dinner with Lexa, to which she begrudgingly acquiesced, still not quite over her anger at the Commander, but she knew for the coalition to stand she had to show as much respect to Lexa as any other Grounder did.

They were Grounders now, after all.

On her way to the throne room, Clarke rounded the corner and almost ran into a wall which turned out to be a person. She recovered just as he turned and she met Bellamy’s gaze which quickly shuttered upon seeing her. She swallowed, looking past him and seeing a woman standing there in _Azgeda_ clothing, smirking at Bellamy.

As in, _smirking_ at Bellamy.

The woman’s gaze slid to Clarke’s, and the dismissive once over she gave her made Clarke’s blood boil.

“Bellamy,” she greeted, turning her attention back to him. He was leaning carelessly against the wall, for all intents and purposes looking completely relaxed, but there was a tightness about his expression that led her to believe he didn’t exactly like the situation he was in currently.

“Wanheda,” he replied in monotone, and somehow that hurt more than his avoidance or apathetic tone. She clenched her jaw, flicking her gaze back to the woman who was watching the exchange as if bored.

“Who are you?” she asked, trying to keep her tone neutral but Bellamy’s eyes flashed to hers and she knew that some of the unwarranted jealousy had seeped into her tone. No, anger. Or… wariness. She wasn’t jealous, just… wary.

Wary. Right.

“I’m Echo, I’m a representative of the Queen of _Azgeda_ ,” she shook out her impressively braided hair, giving Clarke another disdainful once over. “And you must be the Skygirl.”

“Clarke,” she answered, her tone clipped, immediately disliking her.

“I’ll talk to you later, Echo,” Bellamy said evenly, and Clarke didn’t miss the seductive smirk Echo threw at him before turning and walking away, leaving Clarke standing next to Bellamy, fuming.

“Have you been summoned to dine with Lexa?” he asked, and Clarke stared in surprise that he was speaking to her. Recovering quickly, she nodded, crossing her arms defensively.

“Yes.” She refused to meet his eyes, her gaze unwillingly flickering to where Echo had disappeared down the hall.

“Let’s go, then,” Bellamy said, and she nodded, turning to start down the hall to the throne room but before she moved far she felt his hand settle at the small of her back and it sent a sharp wave of heat through her to her dismay. He didn’t indicate that he noticed a reaction in her at all, but his hand pressed a little more firmly against her, and Clarke found herself letting him steer her down the hall, her mind railing at her as to why she was suddenly pliant against him.

When they sat for dinner she tried to subtly shift away from him, but he shifted with her, draping his arm around her shoulder, and she ignored how she suddenly felt flustered and too-hot even in the cooling weather.

“Clarke, Bellamy, I’m glad you could join me,” Lexa said, her eyes unfailingly going to Bellamy’s arm around Clarke’s shoulder, and suddenly a laugh wanted to bubble out of Clarke. This was some fucked up jealousy triangle/chain going on. Bellamy seemed to notice Clarke’s stifled laugh, and met her gaze briefly. The random hysteria felt like it was going to overwhelm her. She was so out of her depth here, having dinner with two _warlords_ who were both…

_Interested in her._

How on earth had she managed this?

“We’re grateful for your invitation,” Bellamy said smoothly, and Clarke didn’t miss his pointed use of _we_ even though they had received the invitations separately. She remembered his words, _Lexa knows I’m loyal, so I’m allowed to be exceptionally difficult_.

No kidding.

The conversation remained light throughout the meal, until the end where Lexa seemed to grow incredibly uncomfortable. At some point Bellamy had started traced random patterns on Clarke’s upper arm, and she was desperately trying to ignore the throb between her legs the feather-light touch caused.

“I wanted to gather you here to ask how your… relationship was progressing,” Lexa said, her face blank but her voice poorly masked how intensely awkward her question was. Clarke tried to hide her cringe, but Bellamy just smiled lazily, leaning further back in his seat.

“Very well, _Heda_. Clarke and I had a wonderful wedding night,” he said smoothly, and suddenly Clarke remembered that he hadn’t slept in their room last night, and Echo’s face flashed in her mind’s eye. Hot anger flooded through her, and she clenched her jaw, trying to tamp down the fury making her heart race.

Lexa seemed to take her pinking cheeks as embarrassment, and nodded briskly.

“Good. I wanted to ensure that the alliance remains solid. Of course, Clarke, when you become pregnant that will help—”

“Excuse me, _what?!_ ” Clarke nearly screeched, almost coming out of her chair as she shot forward, and Lexa, ever cool and collected, simply stared back at her, unimpressed with her outburst.

“A child, Clarke. Marriages result in children, and that child will be a symbol of the solidity of the coalit—”

“I can’t believe you,” she hissed at Lexa, standing now with her fists balled at her sides. “You don’t get to make choices for me, about my body. _No one_ gets to do that,” she shoved her chair back, her earlier anger morphing into blinding, seething rage. “I am a fucking human being, you do _not_ get to say when I have a child or not, and if you think I’m bringing a baby into this hell scape of a world just to please _your_ fucking political ambitions you have another thing coming, _Heda_ ,” Clarke spat her title like a curse, somewhere in the back of her mind knowing that she had stepped way over the line, but there was no way she would let Lexa do this to her. She refused. Outright.

“Clarke,” Lexa began, her tone suddenly placating, and Clarke shook her head, raising her hand to silence her. It was a testament to how much Lexa respected her that she actually did as Clarke demanded.

“No. Final answer. I agreed to this marriage, and that was a stretch in the first place. You _do not_ get to make decisions about my body. Ever.” She was barely able to contain herself as she turned and stormed from the room, hearing Bellamy murmur something quietly to Lexa before quickly following her.

She seethed silently as she stormed back to their quarters, Bellamy walking beside her without a word, neither easing nor burgeoning her anger. She slammed through the door, grabbing the nearest object which was some sort of stone box and hurled it across the room, making a satisfying _crack_ as it hit the wall.

She felt Bellamy’s hand on her shoulder and she screamed in rage, pushing back against him, Echo and Lexa’s face warring in her mind as the source of her anger. Strangely enough he let her push him, and she landed a few good punches on his arms and chest before she tired suddenly, slumping as her anger burnt out. He stood there silently, gazing at her evenly as her breathing slowed, her fury cooling into resentment.

“How long have you been fucking her?” she hurled accusingly at him, and his eyebrow raised.

“I never have, Clarke,” he answered, his voice infuriatingly quiet, and she scoffed, rolling her eyes and stomping across the room, knowing she was throwing a bit of a tantrum but not knowing how to cool her temper.

“Bullshit,” she spat, and his eyes narrowed at her.

“Are you calling me a liar?” he asked, his voice getting dangerously quiet, and Clarke sneered at him.

“I barely even know you. For all I know you _could_ be lying,” she grabbed her jacket from where she’d thrown it across a chair earlier, moving to pull it on.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, crossing his stupid muscled arms over his stupid broad chest and Clarke hated him so much in that moment she swore she could spit.

“ _It’s none of your fucking business, Bellamy!_ Go sleep with Echo if you’re so _fucking_ bored. Maybe you can give Lexa her fucking baby, then,” she yelled viciously, knowing she was so far past reason at this point but unable to stop.

She turned, moving to grab her holster to put it on when he caught her wrist in a strong grip, and the breath whooshed out of her lungs as she was shoved up against the wall, her wrists pinned uncomfortably high above her. She met Bellamy’s angry glare with her own, and pulled at her wrists, twisting to try to free herself.

“Let me go!” she hissed, but his free hand came up and wrapped around her throat, not tight enough to hurt but enough to restrict her air a little.

Everything slowed to a stop, and Clarke found herself locked in his gaze.

“ _Never_. Speak to me like that. Again,” he gritted out between his teeth, his own rage flaming in his eyes. Clarke’s chest heaved with ire, and she wanted to hit something so badly. She hardly recognized herself. “Are you jealous, Clarke?” he crooned suddenly, his demeanor and tone smug and taunting. Clarke hated herself for the flare of heat that washed through her, dampening her panties, and she scoffed.

“You’re so full of it,” she bit out, but he was pressing closer to her, and she couldn’t ignore the hard line of his arousal pressing against her stomach.

“Wondering where I was last night?” he continued taunting, and Clarke knew she gave herself away by the rage flashing in her eyes. “I think you _are_ jealous, Clarke,” he hummed, his free hand trailing slowly down her body, slipping beneath the waistband of her pants and underwear to slide a finger through her wetness and he groaned, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. “You’re so wet for me, Princess. Does being at my mercy turn you on?” there was still a taunting lilt to his tone, but his finger was slowly circling over her slit, spreading her arousal over her folds and clit. Clarke bit back a moan, trying and failing to still her hips as they canted up towards his hand.

Bellamy tutted, nipping at her jaw and throat, withdrawing his hand and Clarke wanted to whine in protest, she wanted to tell him to go float himself. She couldn’t distinguish between anger and lust and it was swirling in a confused haze around her brain, making it hard to function.

“Fuck you,” she bit out, and he only laughed darkly, tugging her shirt up and her bra cups down so the peaks of her breasts were exposed, her nipples tightened with arousal. He tutted again, shaking his head.

“Bad girl,” he teased and Clarke felt a punch of arousal at his words.

Oh god.

“I was alone in my old quarters, last night, thinking of this,” he murmured, his lips closing around one peak, and Clarke gasped, arching her back into him. “Wanting to taste you again.” His mouth was so warm, his tongue lashing at her nipple sending pleasure arcing through her and she felt her hips canting forwards, searching for friction. He slid a knee between her legs, moving so she could rut against his thigh, and she did so shamelessly, grinding against the hard muscle.

He groaned, pressing his leg harder against her, and Clarke whimpered, tugging at her wrists again, trying to free herself. Bellamy ignored her, moving his mouth to the other nipple, tugging at it with his teeth and swirling his tongue over it, driving her wild.

“You want something, Princess?” he said against her skin, and Clarke felt her face heat with embarrassment and lust, refusing to answer him. “I’ll admit Echo is interested, that’s true,” he continued as if he hadn’t expected an answer. “But if I hadn’t made myself clear enough the other night, let me refresh your memory,” he pressed a bruising kiss to her mouth, his hand tugging and pulling at her pants until they were falling around her ankles, and he picked her up suddenly, carrying her across the room and throwing her onto the bed. Clarke gasped when she landed, trying to scramble into a sitting position but he grabbed her ankle, tugging her back down and almost ripping off her panties.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growled, and Clarke felt herself clench at the darkness in his tone, hating that she was so turned on by this domineering asshole who thought he could do whatever the hell he wanted. He moved over her, taking her mouth again in another consuming kiss that she couldn’t help but return, giving as good as she got, pulling at his shirt in retaliation until he let her tug it off. He gave her a rakish grin, moving his hands to his belt buckle and flexing his abs when he caught her staring.

“Like something you see?” he leered, and she glared at him, trying to move back to the middle of the bed but he tugged her down again easily as if she weighed nothing, and moved between her legs, completely naked now.

“I hate you,” she spat, and he only laughed, leaning over her and sliding the head of his cock through her wetness, and she tried desperately not to moan, but a small one escaped and he smirked in triumph.

“Hate and love are only separated by a thin line, Clarke,” he teased, before thrusting in all the way to the hilt, and Clarke cried out. Her back arched as pleasure swept through her, and he started a punishing pace, fucking her hard and fast. Clarke keened desperately, her hands flying to his shoulders for something to hold on to but he gathered them again in one hand, pinning them above her head.

“Mine,” he growled, leaning forward to bite her lip and Clarke couldn’t hide the clenching of her walls around him this time. His eyes flared with lust, and he cursed. “Gods, knew you were perfect,” he groaned in her mouth, and Clarke barely had time to register his words before he was hitching her legs over his shoulders, changing the angle, and she couldn’t stop her loud, debauched moans, her head thrashing as the pleasure threatened to consume her.

Clarke felt herself starting to peak, and her eyes flew open, meeting his dark gaze as he pounded into her. For some reason she couldn’t look away, and she felt like she was drowning in the deep brown depths of his eyes. Sweat beaded his forehead, making his curls stick to the skin there, his bronzed chest and stomach bright with a sheen of it. Everything about the picture he made moving in her sent her over the edge, and she screamed as she clenched down, her orgasm ripping through her, making her vision go white.

He cursed, thrusting her through her orgasm, his jaw clenched in tight self-control as she slowly came down from her high, shuddering around him. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and he groaned, letting her legs fall so he could move over her, his nose almost touching hers.

“You’re so beautiful when you come,” he groaned into her mouth, his hips slowing as she settled down from her high, almost thrusting lazily as he slowly worked her up again, taking his time running his fingers over her slightly sweaty skin, brushing up over her chin to her lips which he kissed deeply, and Clarke bit back a sob as the unexpectedly gentle movement sent a sharp stab of longing through her.

His eyes took in the anguish in her face and his brows furrowed, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.

“What is it, Clarke?” his voice was too soft, and Clarke felt like she was drowning, her emotions rioting over this man she didn’t even know.

“This isn’t real,” she said before she could stop herself, and he stilled completely, still buried inside of her. He was quiet for a long moment, several things passing through his eyes, and Clarke felt her breath catch in her throat.

“Is that why you’re running away from me?” he asked, his voice calm and quiet, such a huge difference from the angry lust that had stormed between them moments before. She swallowed, looking away, and biting her lip after a few heartbeats. Several things seemed to click in place in his expression, and he smiled in an almost sad, bemused way.

“Clarke…” he breathed, moving down and capturing her lips with his, this kiss slow and deep and mesmerizing. “ _Clarke_ ,” he murmured, pressing his hips into hers, rocking slowly in and out of her again. “You are the only woman I know who could _possibly_ fail to see who she truly is,” the teasing lilt was back in his tone, but there was a fondness to it now, and Clarke met his gaze with wide, unsure eyes.

“I don’t…”

He nudged his nose against hers, moving her knees up so he could push in deeper, and Clarke gasped, her hips rolling against his automatically. He kept his pace slower but increased the force of his thrusts, making Clarke see stars.

“If you ever try to run away from me again because you’re too scared of your feelings,” he began matter-of-factly, lips at her ear, and Clarke opened her mouth without thinking to deny him but he cut her off, “I am going to tie you to this bed and fuck you until you can’t walk,” he nipped at her earlobe, and Clarke’s ironic laugh turned into a moan as he rotated his hips, hitting that spot inside of her that sent lightning bolts of pleasure through her.

She could argue later.

Bellamy moved his hips harder and faster until they were both shaking and falling apart around each other, their moans mingling in the heavy air, and Clarke resigned herself then and there to the fact that she was entirely, royally screwed.

-

The next morning went much like their first morning waking up together, but this time Clarke didn't try as hard to wriggle away from him, mumbling in weak protest as he pulled her back against his chest, nuzzling into her neck like a puppy. _What was with this guy?_ she thought exasperatedly, rolling her eyes. There was no way a guy this big of a jerk and this deadly was this cuddly and adorable in the morning. It defied physics. Something.

She felt his soft lips press a kiss on her cheek and his quiet, rumbling _good morning_ in his sleep-scratchy voice, and felt with dismay her heart practically melt at this soft, warm Bellamy. It wasn't fair.

"Morning," she murmured back, hesitantly resting her hand on his that was wrapped around her, and he took no time in lacing their fingers together. Another ache went through her chest, and she stifled a sigh.

"If Kane tries to interrupt us again, I'm shipping him off to _Azgeda_ ," Bellamy yawned, and Clarke couldn't stop her giggle. She twisted her neck to look back at him, and his blinding grin crushed her chest even more.

He liked making her laugh.

"We do have to get up eventually," she reminded him, having deja vu from their first morning, and he whined, actually _whined_ , rolling over so he was half covering her and buried his face in her neck.

"No."

" _Bellamy_ ," she sighed exasperatedly, poking him in the side. "How on earth do you get out of bed when there's a battle, or someone attacking?" she wondered, and his deep chuckle sent a thrill through her.

"I'm not waking up in such warm arms, though," he countered, pressing kisses down the line of her throat, and Clarke's eyes fluttered shut, letting herself bask in the glow of his attention _just_ a little bit. She had to admit deep inside that he was starting to wear her down.

Maybe life with Bellamy wouldn't be so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't guarantee that I'll be able to wrench anymore of this story from my head, and if I do it may be another long update, but I hope you guys liked this little addition!


	3. Winter is Coming

A few weeks passed until Clarke decided she needed to speak to Roan.

Initially her plan had been rejected vehemently by Kane and the other Arkers, and even Lexa voiced her opinion that it wouldn’t provide much value to their current situation. The only one who hadn’t immediately rejected her idea had been Bellamy, to her surprise. He’d looked at her appraisingly for a long moment before nodding slightly, and saying if she felt she needed to and it would help them then she should. Lexa was still against it for the futility of it, (and when Abby had caught wind of the plan she had protested, too, for “safety” reasons, and even gone so far as to threaten to travel to Polis which Clarke had argued with her for half an hour over the radio until her mother settled down. For some reason the idea of her mother meeting Bellamy made her stomach queasy, and she wanted to keep as many miles between the two as possible for now.) As in all things, however, Clarke insisted enough until they had all relented one by one, and that was how Clarke found herself standing alone outside of Roan’s cell, looking at the man who had captured her and almost been the cause of her death.

Just another day on the ground.

“Well, if it isn’t the great Wanheda, deigning to grace me with her presence,” he mocked in his deep rasp, and Clarke ignored the jab.

“I came here to talk to you about your mother,” she said instead, crossing her arms and leveling what she hoped was a stony expression at him.

“Ah, of course. Lexa told you,” he chuckled, crossing his arms to mirror her as much as the chains would allow.

“Why were you exiled from _Azgeda_?” she asked curiously, and he was silent for a minute, the haughty disdain fading from his expression.

“My mother is a vicious woman,” he answered finally. “I disagreed with her methods, and was banished for it.” Clarke looked at him for a long moment, knowing he wasn’t being entirely truthful with her.

“That seems kind of a harsh punishment for a disagreement,” she mused, tilting her head and scrutinizing him harder. For being the prince of the notorious Ice Nation he was lacking the cold meanness of Echo, and somehow she couldn’t imagine this man being an accomplice in the beheading of Costia, even if it was his mother who did it. Besides his somewhat rough handling of her during her capture, he hadn’t been cruel to her. He was cunning, yes, like a fox, and deadlier than most of the other Grounders she’d met, but Clarke didn’t sense any true cruelty in him.

Not like she’d known it.

Cage’s face flashed in her mind and she tried to shake off the nauseated feeling that swept through her at the memory of the Mountain.

“But didn’t you say you wanted to get back in her good graces? If you disagree with her so much why would you want that?” she pressed and he cocked an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall of the cell.

“For the same reason the entire coalition considers you the actual leader of _Skaikru_ and not that ridiculous chancellor you al keep insisting is. To us, you are the rightful _heda_ of _Skaikru_. You’ve done battle against _Trikru_ and won, you’ve survived, kept your people alive, and defeated the Mountain. You’ve proven yourself as a commander of your people. How can I eventually step up to my rightful place as ruler of _Azgeda_ if I’m not there?” his ice blue eyes seemed to pierce right through her, and Clarke felt a foreboding chill sweep down her spine.

“I’m not the chancellor,” she blurted out, and Roan’s laugh made the hairs on the nape of her neck stand up.

“Keep telling yourself that, Wanheda. If you have any hope of defeating my mother you will need to accept that fact, because she already knows, and she’s coming for you.” He lay back down on his cot, folding his hands behind his head and Clarke knew the conversation was over. Trepidation filled her as she left the dungeon, her mind spinning with more questions than she had come with.

 

That night the nightmares returned in full force. They had been lessening over time, (Clarke refused to acknowledge that the timing had a direct correlation with sleeping next to the solid, warm presence of Bellamy that made her feel more safe and secure at night,) but tonight was one of the nights he was on guard duty, and the conversation with Roan had played on a loop in her head before she’d fallen into an uneasy sleep.

It started the same way it always did. Clarke found herself in the same sterile white hallway that seemed to stretch off into the distance, the fluorescent lighting casting an eerie yellow glow to her surroundings. She felt her heart begin to race, and her feet seemed to move of their own accord as she was drawn forward, passing door after door of empty medical rooms, praying…

A soft crash sounded around the corner as she came to it, and Clarke couldn’t stop her feet moving, carrying her further… _no, no I don’t want to… no… please, no…_

Clarke inevitably turned the corner and came face to face with Maya, her face covered in awful blisters that were oozing blood and pus, her irises white and bloodshot. Clarke felt nausea threaten to overwhelm her, and she shook her head in denial, unable to move.

“Murderer,” Maya hissed, taking a slow, menacing step towards her.

 _Murderer… murderer…_ the echoes came from all around Clarke, and she turned, screaming as an army of the dead slowly marched towards her, all covered in radiation blisters, their eyes filled with blood and hatred. There were Grounders, too, their faces warped and burnt, skin melting off their bones from the fire of the dropship, rage in the eyes of those who still had them.

“I had to!” Clarke cried, trying to find an escape but she was quickly cornered against the wall, the dead moving in on all sides. Their gnarled hands reaching for her, intent on revenge.

“You killed us!” Maya shrieked, and Clarke felt tears stream down her face as she desperately tried to fight off their clutching hands as they tore at her skin, her clothes, her hair, but she couldn’t… she couldn’t…

“Clarke!”

“ _No!_ I had to! I had to! _I’m sorry!_ ” she sobbed, still trying to escape but just as Maya’s hands circled her throat she was jolted awake with a hard shake and her eyes flew open to see Bellamy looming over her, grappling with her gently as she thrashed and screamed. Vaguely she realized the high keening sobs were coming from her throat, and when she finally escaped the last vestiges of the nightmare and fully awoke she couldn’t stop sobbing, her arms going limp in his strong hold.

“Shh… shh…” Bellamy whispered, sitting down beside her and gather her into his large arms, rocking her gently as Clarke cried, and cried. She clutched at his shirt, burying her face into his chest and he let her sob, murmuring sweet nothings to her as the grief and stress of months on the ground finally came pouring out of her all at once. It was as if the flood gates had opened and there was no way of closing them, now.

When her tears finally started to subside, Bellamy placed a soft kiss on her forehead, and Clarke sniffled, trying to shake the images from her nightmare from her mind.

“You have many demons to slay, Clarke,” he said softly into her hair, and Clarke sniffled again, turning to look up at him in confusion. He smiled softly, sadly, and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear that was pressed to her forehead from perspiration. “When Octavia was a child our mother was killed in front of us—a dispute over food. After that she had nightmares almost every night, and I told her: fears are fears. When you meet your demons, look them in the eye and say ‘I am not afraid.’ If you slay your demons when you’re awake, they won’t be there to haunt you in your sleep.”

Clarke realized she was holding her breath and let it out in a shaky sigh, nodding. Her mind was full of his gentle words, turning them over and over to analyze them. He had never shown her this side of himself before; the protective older brother who loved his sister fiercely. It made something in her chest ache to the point where she felt breathless.

“Thank you,” she finally murmured, and his answering smile sent a different kind of fearful thrill through her.

“Let’s go to sleep,” he said quietly, leaning down to press his lips against hers, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel like she was drowning in this man.

 

A few days later Lexa received an emissary from Ice Nation who announced the queen’s intention to visit. She was apparently skeptical about the legitimacy of the marriage of _Skaikru_ to the coalition, and claimed it didn’t offer a true alliance especially because Clarke could leave at any time. A wave of outrage swept the room, most notably from Bellamy who spat a quick string of curses in Trigedasleng until Lexa sighed and silenced them all with a slightly raised hand.

“We knew _Azgeda_ would challenge the new alliance. It is no secret that they do not like outsiders joining us, and she has long since wanted an _Azgeda_ commander,” her eyes lit coldly onto the emissary who expertly kept his face neutral, but Clarke could still see the smug glint in his eyes. “This will be her chance to challenge my rule, and she very well may call for a fight to the death in order to start a new conclave.”

“No! You can’t do that!” Clarke blurted out, standing up before she even realized what she was doing. The room fell silent, and all eyes were on her. She felt her cheeks start to warm, but she kept her expression neutral after her initial outburst. “You’re the commander, we need you. It’s too risky for you to fight,” she insisted, and several of the eyes on her turned mocking.

“If the _Heda’s_ authority is challenged, she must defend herself, Clarke. It is our way,” Bellamy said, not looking pleased but more resigned than she was willing to be.

“But…” she began, but the words died on her lips at the look in his eyes. Sometimes she forgot that diplomacy in this society was made with swords more often than not. She sat down hesitantly, casting her eyes down to the table. Although Lexa and she weren’t on the best of terms, they had come to an uneasy truce. As long as Lexa didn’t try to talk to Clarke about their past, Clarke was willing to be civil; but she still didn’t want any harm to come to her, no matter what had happened between them. The idea of Lexa with the fierce life extinguished from her eyes set Clarke’s stomach roiling, and her throat tightened.

“If it comes to that, then there is no question that I will fight,” Lexa said smoothly, confidently—every inch the Grounder Commander. “But we shall have to wait and see if the queen is confident enough in herself to challenge me. She will have to have a formidable _Natblida_ ready if she wishes to instigate a conclave.” Lexa leaned back in her throne, the coldness in her eyes thrown into stark relief by the black war paint. The crowd was turning restless, and Clarke could see the unease in their eyes. All could tell Lexa was murderously angry, and no one wanted to speak up and have her wrath turned on them. “Then it is settled. If it comes to it, I will fight.”

 _You’re still only human!_ Clarke wanted to scream, but she kept silent, nodding in assent the same as everyone else gathered.

She felt Bellamy’s hand rest on her lower back, but she was long past shying away from his touch. Instead, she leaned back into it, trying to let the warm weight soothe her anxiety. Low murmurs broke out into the crowd as they started to disperse, some brooding and others openly anxious. She didn’t think anyone here wanted war, but she’d learned long ago to be careful who she trusted.

As Clarke and Bellamy stood to leave, she could practically feel Lexa’s gaze burning into her, but she refused to look up and instead quickened her steps until she was out in the hallway with Bellamy at her side.

“I don’t like this,” Kane said from behind her, and Clarke turned, frowning back at him.

“Neither do I… there’s too much risk. What if Lexa dies? We’ll…” her throat closed, and she couldn’t help her worried gaze from darting to Bellamy quickly. Bellamy still caught her glance, and something that she couldn’t quite place flashed in them briefly.

“No matter what happens I will keep you safe. Eleven out of the twelve clans agreed readily to this alliance, and if it comes to it they will back us. Not only do we have Lexa’s orders on our side, but _Azgeda_ is not well liked even amongst the other clans. You joining the coalition gives us more numbers, more firepower—your technology is something to be reckoned with, don’t forget that,” he said earnestly, his deep brown eyes boring into hers and Clarke felt like she couldn’t breathe for a second. “It may not seem like it, but the other clans fear you. You brought down the Mountain. They would rather you be on their side, even if you did fall from the sky,” he said, his deep voice rumbling with the confidence and intelligence of a general, and Clarke couldn’t help but be awed by his strategic mind.

“We can only pray that you’re right,” Kane sighed, than nodded to both of them before rejoining the rest of the Arkers on their way out of the tower.

Wordlessly, Bellamy placed his hand on the small of her back again, and steered her the opposite direction from where they were going, leading her to the stairwell that would take them to their quarters. Clarke followed, too lost in her worried thoughts to pay much mind to where they were headed.

The minute they stepped inside, Bellamy walked away from her towards the bureau where a decanter of wine sat and poured himself a glass. She frowned for a moment, unsure why the lines of his shoulders were so tense.

She didn’t have to wait long.

“You’re concerned for her,” he said, and Clarke almost missed the barest hint of accusation in his tone.

“Of course, she’s the _Heda_ …” Clarke said carefully, her brow furrowing as she watched him take a long drink from his goblet.

“That’s not what I mean.” His growling tone rumbled through her like an earthquake, and Clarke swallowed audibly, her hands tingling with nerves.

“Bellamy…” she couldn’t find the words, and suddenly it was like he was accusing her about Finn all over again, and she felt the mix of guilt and hurt war inside of her chest like twin blazes.

“You _care_ about her,” he turned only enough to throw a stony glance at her, and Clarke could see the fury building deep inside of him. She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to surreptitiously wipe the sweat off of her hands on her pants. She shook her head, looking at the ground between her feet.

“Bellamy, she almost killed me, _my people_. Everyone I love. She betrayed me. She left me to _die_ at Mount Weather,” she gritted out, her own fury and hurt seeping into her voice as she dredged up the painful betrayal that still filled her veins with burning acid. “Maybe I did once, but she destroyed that when she betrayed me. Just because I don’t want her to be killed for the good of my people doesn’t mean…”

“Have you kissed?”

His question broad sided her, and she gaped at him, unable to speak. He took a step towards her, looking like a panther stalking its prey. She knew she couldn’t lie to him, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer him; not out of fear of what he’d do to her, but…

Echo’s smirk flashed in her mind, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Have you kissed Echo?” she threw back, and he faltered for only half a second before shaking his head, laughing sardonically.

“Always the schemer, Princess. Always ready with your words to distract me,” he narrowed his eyes, and Clarke realized she had been backing away slowly while he stalked forward because her back hit the wall. He crowded in close to her, the anger swimming in his dark eyes as a muscle in his jaw twitched, and Clarke tried to remember how to breathe. “No wonder Lexa seemed so reluctant to agree to the marriage option at first...” he growled, his hand that wasn’t clenched around the goblet coming up to grasp her chin, tilting her head up so he could meet her gaze. “She didn’t want to let go of her little toy.”

“I’m no one’s toy,” Clarke hissed, hurt blooming in her chest, but it was the wrong thing to say. A dangerous light glinted in Bellamy’s eyes, and his eyebrow rose.

“No?”

Clarke watched as he drained the last of the goblet before leaning forward and pressing a bruising kiss to her lips and her hands flew up to grab his shoulders. Clarke felt something cool and wet touch her lips, and she opened them slightly to accept some of the wine he’d been drinking. The sweet dark taste erupted over her tongue, and the strange intimacy of the act made heat instantly flare between her legs. Bellamy’s fingers on her chin tightened just to the point of pain before relaxing and brushing down over her throat, where he trailed the slightly roughened pads up and down the soft white skin.

“Did she ever make you feel like this?” he whispered, the jealousy darkening his tone unmistakable as his lips traveled downwards, brushing over the peaks of her breasts, making her breath tremble. The wine goblet he was holding clattered to the floor, and his fingers moved over her hip, trailing up over the swell of her backside before sweeping back around and dancing slowly up the inside of her thigh. “How about this, Princess?” he nipped at her bottom lip, the taste of the wine still spilling over in his kiss, and Clarke chased the taste but he pulled away, sending her a dark look that instantly stilled her. She wasn’t to move, that was clear, and it sent a dark thrill through her Clarke wasn’t sure she was ready to acknowledge she liked. “Did _my_ _Heda_ ever taste you?” he growled, his fingers ghosting over her clit, and Clarke gasped.

“No!” she insisted, her hips arching unconsciously towards his touch but he quickly pushed her back against the wall none too gently.

“She never touched this pretty pussy of mine?” he hummed, his fingers continuing their light torture over her burning core, and Clarke felt her face heat at his dirty words. Suddenly her shirt was pulled up and over her head, and she barely had time to take a breath before his mouth was latched on the soft swell of her breast, and Clarke arched her back, her eyes closing as his hands roamed over her skin, moving up to pull the cups of her bra down to play with her nipples, rolling and plucking them between his fingers until they were hard points, sending jolts of pleasure through her. There was nothing left for her to do but melt into him, this mysterious, dark stranger who became so central to her life she hardly remembered a time without him.

Without warning she was lifted, and with a few long strides he dumped her on the bed. She couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped her, but she quickly sobered as he crawled onto the bed after her, pulling her pants down and off before settling almost languidly between her thighs which fell open easily for him without her even realizing. His tongue swirled warm, wet designs on the V of her hips, moving inexorably further down and her head fell back, fingers tangling in his dark curls as she practically begged him to touch her with her body arching up towards him.

He hummed, seemingly pleased with her response and pressed slow, sucking kisses up the sensitive insides of her thighs, making her shiver. There would no doubt be marks in the morning, but she was so far gone she couldn’t bring herself to care. He tugged her panties down in one swift movement, throwing them carelessly to the side before continuing his lazy assault on her soft skin.

Just as Clarke felt like she might combust if he didn’t touch her, Bellamy swirled a circle around her clit with his tongue before settling on her center. His slow licks were just enough to tease her, and she whined in protest, trying to arch her hips closer to him. He chuckled darkly, pinching the soft skin of her bottom in retaliation before licking into her in earnest, making her moan filthily. When she glanced down his eyes were closed almost reverently as he worked her over expertly with his tongue, and Clarke felt heat rise quickly in her face, spreading down all the way to the tops of her breasts. As if he could sense her gaze, his dark eyes opened and locked onto hers, the sinful glint in them making her walls clench, but he closed them again and doubled his efforts, devouring her with such passion that she could feel the tingling at the base of her spine already starting. She couldn’t have stifled her moans if she tried, every movement of his tongue drawing them out of her like she was an instrument of his desire. She tried almost mindlessly to wiggle out of his grasp to get any small relief from the onslaught of pleasure, but he easily thwarted each attempt with his large hands pinning her hips to the bed, his broad shoulders keeping her thighs spread to his liking.

“ _Bellamy!_ Bellamy… Bellamy…” she whined breathlessly, her hands fluttering between clawing at the bedspread to threading through his curls and tugging at them needily. He groaned into her, stiffening his tongue and rubbing it over her clit in a series of quick, relentless lashes that had her bowing off the bed, her eyes rolling back as the pleasure peaked and slammed into her without warning. She cried his name, pushing at his shoulder but he ignored her blithely, sucking her clit harder while simultaneously flicking his tongue and her attempts to move away quickly turned into her grinding her hips against his face. She moaned helplessly as she came hard, _again_ , her hand that wasn’t clawing at his shoulder thrown above her head, losing herself to the sensation as the pleasure crashed over her in waves.

She lay there trembling, hardly able to catch her breath as he moved languidly back up her body, his heavy, possessive kisses warming her from somewhere deep that she didn’t want to acknowledge.

“She’ll never eat you like that, my darling,” he growled, biting at her lip while the head of his cock bumped against her entrance.

“Bellamy!” she meant to chastise him, but it came out as a breathy moan and he hummed, nudging his nose against her cheek gently as he grinded his length against her, sending sparks of sensation shooting through her, her stomach flipping.

“You’re mine, Clarke,” he breathed against her cheek, lining up his cock before pressing slowly inside of her, and Clarke gasped, her nails digging into his broad shoulders as he worked himself inside her. She felt so stretched and full, but more alarmingly an ache had started in her chest at his words, and she clenched her jaw, shutting her eyes tight as she tried to push her feelings down and save herself.

She braced herself for him to take her rough and hard like the first night, but instead he kissed her, deep and fully, bracing himself on one forearm above her while running his other hand down her body, his calluses rasping against her soft skin. He grinded his hips slowly into her, rocking in and out of her with a slow, deep motion that had pleasure curling through her, making her head spin. It was so different than usual, and Clarke almost forgot that he was angry and jealous of Lexa.

_As if._

It wasn’t long before Clarke’s urging broke down his careful control, and with a groan he snapped his hips harder into hers, his tongue dancing with hers briefly before he buried his face in her neck, driving into her in a hard, fast pace that had her cries rising to an inappropriate volume but neither of them cared. Clarke shuddered in his arms, her teeth sinking into the hard muscle of his shoulder as the pleasure seemed like it would overwhelm her. Her orgasm swept through her, taking her breath away as it made her body sing, and he moved through it relentlessly, eventually slowing his pace back to the slow, deep thrusting he’d started with, and Clarke was too sated, too consumed with the pleasure to care.

It seemed like hours passed as they were locked in their heated embrace, slowly driving each other to the brink. Clarke lost count of the times he kissed her, whispered dark, possessive things into her skin as he completely surrounded her, engulfing her every sense; her nose filled with his woodsy scent, her skin warmed with his every touch, his deep brown eyes piercing hers, the rumbling of his voice in her ear, pleasure from being so filled with him. She didn’t know where he stopped and she began. At one point he was pressed against her back, her leg hitched over his waist but his lips were still locked with hers as he thrusted slow and deep into her from behind, Clarke’s one hand tangled in his hair, the other’s fingers laced with his. There wasn’t any part of her body that wasn’t connected with his.

“ _Hod…_ ” he groaned against her lips, his hips picking up their pace slightly and she could feel him growing even harder inside of her, twitching with his impending orgasm.

“Yes!” she cried, even though she didn’t know what he said, but it was as if his pleasure had ignited hers, and she tightened around him, falling over the edge with a long, breathless moan. He cursed, thrusting a few more times harder into her before he was groaning her name like a prayer into her throat, his member throbbing as he released deep inside of her, his arm squeezing tighter around her.

As she heard her name tumble from his lips in the midst of their ecstasy, she could almost pretend that it meant more.

-

Clarke stood watching the sunrise on the balcony of their room overlooking the city, her arms wrapped around herself against the slight chill in the air. The tips of the trees were just beginning to fade from emerald to brilliant crimsons, flaming oranges, and cheery yellows. It was truly breathtaking, but it heralded a frightening truth. Winter was coming. _In more ways than one_ , she sighed internally.

Two weeks had passed since the emissary from _Azgeda_ brought the troubling message from their queen, and since her conversation with Roan Clarke’s anxiety only increased by the day. Bellamy insisted that she and her people would remain safe, but she couldn’t help but worry over those still at Arkadia. She missed her friends, she constantly wondered how Raven was doing, and Jasper— whether he was still passing out in dark corners around camp in a drunken stupor, trying to forget the love of his life Clarke had murdered in cold blood. She wondered how Monty was handling it, how frustrated Miller must be with it all.

Time hadn’t made it any easier to bear.

The changes in the last month or so of her life had definitely drawn her attention away for long stretches, of which she wasn’t sure if she was thankful for or not, but there was no denying that Bellamy had and continued to play a large roll in her coping with what had happened at Mount Weather. She remembered not wanting to go home after it, and couldn’t say anymore what had kept her from running away from it all, from dropping everything and vanishing to cope with what she’d done. Maybe it was the anger over Lexa’s betrayal, maybe what she’d done had broken her so badly to the point where she couldn’t even bring herself to want to escape it. There was no escape.

Not really.

She heard a soft sigh and the rustling of fabric behind her, and she spared a glance over her shoulder, taking in Bellamy’s sleeping form. She hated to admit it, but the times when she awoke and was able to leave the bed without waking him were her favourite. Not because she wanted to be away from him, but because she could observe him sleeping peacefully from a different vantage point. This way, she could see the whole picture. He always looked so boyish, so innocent, with all the lines of worry or seriousness smoothed from his face. Even without the laughter lines she saw more and more often, (he really enjoyed teasing her at every opportunity, which she “put up with” good naturedly even though it made something in her chest trip up,) he was so beautiful. That at least was easy for her to admit. He had a Grecian beauty about him that took her breath away, and being able to simply gaze at him without worry of him seeing her stare was something she really enjoyed.

“Princess, come back to bed,” he murmured without opening his eyes, and Clarke didn’t bother hiding her small smile as she padded back over to him, slipping under the covers and letting him wrap a strong arm around her, drawing her close against his side.

How different everything was now.

She pressed her nose against his warm throat and he made a small whine of protest.

“So chilly,” he complained, and Clarke pressed her lips together, failing to hide another smile. Sleepy Bellamy was a close second favourite of hers.

“Sorry,” she whispered, and with a quiet grumble she took as begrudging forgiveness, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, his arm tightening briefly around her before he sighed again, clearly content to snooze for a while longer.

She closed her eyes, basking in his warmth, trying to squash the feeling stirring in her chest. Even after over a month with him she wasn’t any closer to keeping herself in check. Mornings like this certainly ruined every bit of progress she made, but she had learned her lesson about trying to distance herself from him.

Plus, he saw through her every time.

A few minutes or hours later, Clarke was abruptly ripped from sleep by a furious knocking at their door.

“Bellamy! Clarke!”

“I’m going to kill them,” Bellamy sighed without any malice, and the absurdity of the calmness of his statement made Clarke actually snort a giggle.

Their peace was abruptly shattered by the next words through the door.

“The queen is here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, FINALLY another chapter. for some reason this story is really easy to type out on my phone when i'm on the T going to work, so that's how i've been writing it, then transferring it to my laptop when i get home and have the time. 
> 
> Let me know how you guys are liking it! you've officially bullied me into a multichapter fic, so i hope you guys are proud. this was supposed to be a one shot... A ONE SHOT.  
> also i've realized i suck at slow burn bellarke sex, but i CAN write slow burn romance bellarke. hmm.
> 
> also Clarke really sucks at Trigedasleng d o nt as k me why  
> ...
> 
> (plot device thats why)


	4. No Heda No Mo

Time seemed to slow to a standstill when the queen walked into the throne room, her eyes locking with Clarke’s. Bellamy stood firm beside her, and Clarke felt an intense wave of gratitude for his steady, unyielding strength. The cold challenge of the glare he leveled at the queen didn’t seem to faze her, in fact it just made the smirk on her face grow wider. Her dark blonde hair reminded Clarke keenly of Roan, along with the scars that marked her face. Her eyes, however, held an icy malice that was missing in Roan’s. His were quieter, more calculating, but nowhere near as cruel as his mother’s. Clarke wondered absently where he managed to miss gaining that trait in his upbringing.

Clarke felt Bellamy’s arm wrap around her waist, and she looked up at him curiously only to be met with a deep, searing kiss that made heat sizzle throughout her down to her toes, her face heating at the same time. It was an entirely inappropriate kiss for the setting they were in, and Clarke couldn’t help but think that where _Azgeda_ was ice and hate, Bellamy was all wildfire and passion.

He pulled back, a genuine smirk on his lips at her dazed look, and when she chanced a glance back at the queen her own smirk had disappeared, her eyes scrutinizing the easy fit of Clarke’s body against Bellamy’s. Fighting down her blush and shyness, Clarke let herself relax even further against him, more than she would normally allow herself in public. It was playing havoc with her nerves, though, letting herself be this close to him when they weren’t in bed. Everywhere he touched her burned, and she tried her best to school her thoughts and focus on the very life or death situation happening right now; not the memories she had of the last time they were pressed this close together, her head thrown back as she cried out his name…

_Damn it. Focus. Focus._

“Welcome, queen of _Azgeda_ ,” Lexa began smoothly after the _Azgeda_ delegation bowed with their fists over their hearts as was custom, and Clarke forced her attention back to the present with difficulty.

“Heda, thank you for agreeing to hear us, your subjects out on this very controversial and high risk issue,” the queen simpered, and Clarke felt herself bristle. _The only reason it’s controversial is because of you!_ she thought venomously, and she felt Bellamy’s hand squeeze her hip lightly, whether to placate her or agree with her silent anger she wasn’t sure.

“My understanding was that if a marriage was agreed upon it would be a satisfactory condition to allow _Skaikru_ to join the coalition, or does my memory fail me?” Lexa spoke, and for someone observing that didn’t know her it would have sounded perfectly diplomatic, but Clarke knew that tone of voice. Lexa was furious, and Clarke wasn’t the only one in the throne room that realized that if the looks of trepidation that passed through the crowd were any indication. Lexa angry wasn’t a force anyone wanted to reckon with.

“It was… at the time,” the queen nodded, masking her expression with innocent uncertainty and worry that Clarke felt was nauseatingly fake. “But I don’t think we fully realized the implications of our choice and how risky it would be for the coalition to allow such dangerous murderers into our fold, who have indeed just recently committed atrocities against _Azgeda_!”

A confused murmur swept through the crowd, and Clarke felt Bellamy stiffen next to her. Her stomach dropped. This wasn’t what they had expected the queen to say.

“What are you referring to?” Lexa demanded, and Clarke didn’t miss the quick flicker of her gaze to where the Arkers were standing next to Clarke and Bellamy.

“Why, on our way here our convoy was ambushed. By _their_ guns!” she cried, and the big hulking guard next to her produced a rifle which he’d previously had wrapped in a cloth, tossing it to the ground with an exaggerated flourish. Clarke felt her throat constrict with fear.

“You could have simply stolen a rifle to invent this story,” Bellamy laughed, shaking his head and a murmur of assent filtered through the room at that, but Clarke could feel the tension rolling off him. He was trying to call their bluff.

“Of course, you have every reason to question the veracity of this claim,” the queen nodded, smiling, and Clarke felt her stomach flip. Why was she still smiling? “Fortunately, we were able to catch the _Skaikru_ soldier who did it, so he can be brought to justice _. Jus drein, jus daun_.” She waved her hand towards the back of her envoy which Clarke hadn’t been paying attention to since she’d been so distracted by the queen.

The small crowd parted as they dragged someone forwards before throwing him down on his knees in front of Lexa, and Clarke felt her whole world crumble away from underneath her.

It was Finn.

-

 

“It wasn’t him, Lexa! They can’t even prove it, they didn’t even bring the bodies to be examined!” Clarke burst out as soon as the door shut, and she, Bellamy, Lexa, and several other high ranking officials in Lexa’s council were alone in the war council room. She began pacing wildly, her panic barely contained in her chest, fluttering like a swarm of birds trying to escape.

“Clarke…”

“Finn would _never_ do this! He’s reckless, sure, but in the stupid, teenager, wants to climb a huge rock just because he can kind of way, I mean he went for a damn _space_ _walk_ for the fun of it when we were coming down! I swear to you—”

“Clarke!”

“He couldn’t have done this, I don’t even think he’s capable of killing a _fly_ , let alone—”

“ _Clarke!_ ”

Lexa’s insistent yell finally made Clarke skid to a halt, her rambling cut off as she took a deep, shaking breath. Her hands trembled as she wheeled around to face the war council table everyone but Bellamy and Lexa were seated at. They were both standing, turned towards her. Bellamy was watching her with barely masked concern, and she looked at him pleadingly.

“Clarke, we know they’re lying,” Lexa said, her voice even and logical, as unruffled as she always was, whereas Clarke felt like she was about to explode, like she could barely think for the fear clouding her head.

“You…” she stammered, looking around at all the faces staring at her with expressions ranging from awkward worry to mild concern. “You do?”

“Yes, Clarke. After all these years we have become very attuned to when the queen of _Azgeda_ is lying. The only ones that will possibly back her story are those who have something to gain by me losing my throne, or ones she threatens. She is trying to stir unrest amongst the ambassadors, but thankfully we had scouts following her on their way here, and they saw the boy taken hostage. I believe he had strayed from his hunting party to explore some caves,” Lexa said in her cool, clinical voice, and Clarke felt fury surging in her chest again, her face hot with it.

“And none of you thought to _rescue_ him?! They beat him!” she flung her hands out, looking back and forth from one person to the next, who only managed blank stares in return.

“Rescuing him could have sparked an all-out war, Clarke. We need to be strategic about our next move. The queen will continue to spread this lie amongst the people, and she may gain enough sympathy to have the backing to challenge my reign,” Lexa said, completely emotionless, and Clarke deflated, swallowing hard. This exact conversation was bringing back that day so strongly…

_“What did you do?”_

_“What you would have done. Save my people.” Lexa’s eyes were as cold and dead as stone._

_“What about my people?” Clarke felt her heart plummet. Her whole world was being ripped away from her right in front of her eyes and all Lexa could do was look back at her coolly, unaffected._

_“I’m sorry Clarke. They weren’t part of the deal.”_

_“You made the right choice, Commander.” Emerson, the smug glint in his eyes as he walked away with every one of Clarke’s hopes sinking by the minute._

_“What is this?” Lincoln demanded as he walked up, looking at the Grounders leaving Mount Weather in confused outrage._

_“Your commander made a deal,” Clarke spat, barely containing her tears._

_“What about the prisoners from the Ark?” he asked quietly, the anger barely contained from his voice._

_“They’ll all be killed,” she answered, her eyes not leaving Lexa’s in their furious stare off. “But you don’t care about that, do you?” she accused, bitterness saturating her voice._

_“I do care, Clarke,” Lexa bit back. “But I made this choice with my head and not my heart.” Clarke shook her head in disbelief as the woman she’d grown close to continued to shatter her soul with every word. “The duty to protect my people comes first.”_

_“Please don’t do this,” she pleaded in a whisper, begging Lexa with her eyes. This was their only chance of survival._

_“I’m sorry Clarke.”_

This time she kept her mouth shut, and went to sit by Bellamy, who laid his hand on her thigh, rubbing it gently as if to comfort her. She wondered vaguely if he’d been there that night as one of the men behind the masks, if he’d watched her heart shatter as Lexa said _“May we meet again”_ and walked away as if she felt nothing by abandoning the _Arkers_ to certain death. She pressed against his side, willing his quiet strength to seep into her and give her any small hope for their situation.

The conversation flowed around her after that, hemming and hawing over strategy and how they could stop the queen’s propaganda, what to do if she did challenge Lexa...

And contingency plans, if Lexa lost.

Clarke didn’t want to think about any of it. All she could think about was Finn who was now locked in the dungeon of Polis, and how everything she’d sacrificed for her people, all that she’d worked to build for them was once again in jeopardy, and deeper down, a fear she didn’t even want to acknowledge—

She and Bellamy were in jeopardy.

Once the meeting wrapped up and the plans were laid, Clarke grabbed Bellamy’s hand as they walked towards the door. He squeezed her hand briefly, brushing his thumb over her skin absentmindedly, and it gave Clarke something small to be happy about.

“Bellamy, Clarke,” Lexa’s call made them pause and turn in unison. Her face was an immobile mask, but Clarke could see something swimming in her gaze as she faced the couple. “Your unity is more important now than ever. Don’t forget that,” she said, and Bellamy nodded solemnly, responding that they wouldn’t. Clarke chewed her bottom lip as she nodded, too, but she couldn’t quite let go of the anxiety roiling in her to speak.

“Let’s go, _hod_ ,” Bellamy murmured quietly, tugging Clarke’s hand and she turned to follow him, but not before she caught Lexa’s eyes locked on their joined hands, something like sadness in their green depths before she turned and spoke quietly with her guards.

Clarke pressed closer to Bellamy’s side as they left the room, her mind tossing and turning the events of the last few hours over in her head.

“We will get through this,” Bellamy said once they had rounded the corner of the hallway, turning to meet her eyes.

“I can’t…” her words got caught in her throat, and she swallowed, rephrasing what she wanted to say into something less dangerous. “ _Skaikru_ can’t lose this alliance.”

_I can’t lose you._

Something passed through his gaze, and after looking at her for a few breaths, his expression unreadable, Bellamy nodded, leaning down to press his lips to hers, backing her up against the wall. Clarke gasped into his kiss, her fingers disentangling with his so she could wrap her arms around his neck, letting him deepen the kiss even further. His arm came around her waist, pulling her towards him so that her back was arched, her chest flush with his as she let all of her fear and stress leech into the desperation of her touch, and he absorbed it all, matching her with his fire. The rest of the world fell away, just as it always did when he kissed her, and Clarke melted into his touch. His hand brushed slowly down her side and hip to grip her ass, before trailing down even further to hitch her leg around his hip so he could press even further against her…

“Oh, dear, the newlyweds,” a deprecating laugh came from behind Bellamy, and Clarke jumped as if she were electrocuted. Bellamy turned lazily, pupils blown, lips flushed from their kiss, and his hair mussed inappropriately, looking completely debauched. The queen and her convoy had come around the corner, apparently on their way out of the tower as Clarke was practically climbing Bellamy like a tree in the hallway, and she thought she would shrivel up and die on the spot at the queen’s look of scorn.

“Queen Niyah,” Bellamy drawled, not moving his arm from around Clarke who would have rather crawled into a hole in the floor then and there rather than face the ice queen. As luck would have it her face was also beet red if the heat in her cheeks was any indication.

“Young lust,” Niyah sneered, ignoring him and instead choosing to speak to Echo who was next to her, a sour look on her face that was rather unbecoming. “It burns quick, but never long,” she sniffed disdainfully, turning and marching down the hallway with the rest of her envoy, Echo shooting one last venomous look towards Clarke.

“I hate her,” she blurted out once they were out of ear shot, and Bellamy barked a laugh that brought her out of her chagrin and made her lips curl in spite of herself.

“She certainly knows how to…” Bellamy paused, lips pursed as he searched for the most appropriate words he wanted to use, but with every passing second his dubious look only grew and Clarke laughed.

“Yeah, she does,” Clarke grinned, knowing exactly what he was trying to say. He grinned back at her, leaning down to kiss her quickly before tugging her hand again.

“Come on, we’re overdue for our weekly traipse in the woods.”

-

 

“You’re not pressing charges?!” the queen erupted, standing angrily from her chair as they were all gathered the next day for another audience with Lexa. Clarke didn't miss Finn's look of relief from where he knelt next to Roan, both in chains and held by guards.

“There is not sufficient evidence that the _Skaikru_ boy did as you claim,” Lexa said blandly, looking for all the world like a bored ruler dealing with a frivolous matter from one of her subjects.

“ _Azgeda_ demands justice!” Niyah hissed, yet Lexa only blinked at her.

“Where are your dead? You claim you were ambushed, but where are your wounded?” Lexa asked, the cool façade of her calm never breaking.

“We had to burn them, of course, and thankfully most of the bullets missed my men,” Niyah said, but Clarke could see the lie in her eyes and it made her furious.

“My scouts found no evidence of a funeral pyre, either. Your story is too convenient, and too lacking,” Lexa narrowed her eyes at the Ice Queen, who stood, drawing herself to her full height.

“Then it is as I feared. Your desire for power has blinded and weakened you. You refuse to acknowledge that _Skaikru_ is a danger to us all and you continue to side with them over your own people! _Azgeda_ challenges the legitimacy of this union!” the queen cried into the stony silence, letting her gaze meet meaningfully with every ambassador around the throne room. “Bringing these outsiders into the coalition endangers our people and only serves to make _Trikru_ the strongest clan, and that has _always_ been her agenda, shown by how she used her _Trikru_ general for the farce marriage in the first place! This union threatens _all_ the clans,” the glint in the Ice Queen’s eyes was full of malice, and Clarke could feel her blood running cold as she spoke. “I call for a vote of no confidence!”

Gasps echoed throughout the chamber, Clarke’s amongst the loudest.

“Take this traitor to the dungeon!” Lexa’s Flamekeeper Titus bellowed angrily from his place next to the throne. The guards moved forward towards the Ice Queen, who’s smirk only continued to grow.

“ _Slo yo ro doan!_ ” Not so fast! One of the oldest ambassadors from _Delphikru_ stood, and Clarke could only look on in horror as their plans crumbled before them. “ _No Heda no mo!_ ”

Commander no longer.

“ _No Heda no mo!_ ”

“ _No Heda no mo!_ ”

One by one the ambassadors stood, even ambassadors Clarke knew Bellamy spoke to and had their vote of confidence.

 _They betrayed us. All of them,_ she thought in despair. Some looked nervously at the queen, and Clarke’s despair became enflamed with anger. Some had clearly been blackmailed, by what she couldn’t know, but this was not a true vote of no confidence.

But there was nothing to be done.

“Take them away, too!” Titus demanded, fury staining his cheeks red.

“ _Hod op!_ ” Lexa called calmly, stopping the guards from rushing forth.

“Lexa, please execute these traitors,” Titus urged, and Lexa raised a graceful hand in the air to stop him mid-sentence.

“Let her make her move,” she said, her voice dangerously soft, eyes as cold as the Ice Queen’s.

“Commander what is this?” Clarke demanded, looking at Lexa in desperation. Was this the challenge? Why were they saying she was no longer the commander?

“This is a coup,” Lexa gritted out darkly and Clarke felt as though the world was being ripped out from under her once again. _No._

“ _This_ is the law! Her law,” the Ice queen said smugly, turning to throw a disdainful look at Clarke. “A unanimous vote of the ambassadors or death are all that can remove a Commander from power.” Victory shone in her eyes, and Clarke felt anger flood her chest, hot and burning.

“It’s _not_ unanimous,” Clarke threw back, and felt a cautionary hand on her arm, Bellamy warning her to be careful.

“We don’t recognize the _legitimacy_ of _Skaikru_ ,” the queen spat at Clarke, the hatred in her gaze making the hair on the back of her neck stand.

“We do,” Titus countered angrily, stepping forth. “Bellamy _com Trikru_ and Wanheda sealed the union of _Skaikru_ to the coalition through marriage, as was demanded by _every_ ambassador here. They _are_ the 13 th clan, this vote of no confidence _fails!_ All these coup plotters will suffer the same fate as the Ice Queen. The punishment for treason is death,” his voice was full of fury, and Clarke felt as though her heart would pound out of her chest. Bellamy slid his hand down to hold hers tightly, and she held on for dear life as their peace, their marriage, and their lives hung by a thread.

“She won’t take our heads because she knows our armies will retaliate,” the Niyah taunted, her eyes twin flints of ice. Lexa glared at her coldly, but didn't contradict her. “None of us here wants war,” the Ice Queen continued suggestively, and Clarke felt her throat close in fear.

_No. This can’t be happening._

“We both know what you want, _Niyah_ ,” Lexa spat darkly, standing for the first time from her throne and stalking towards the Ice Queen. “If you think me unfit to command, issue the challenge, and let’s get on with it.”

_No._

“Very well,” Niyah hissed back. “You are challenged.”

“And I accept the challenge,” Lexa replied almost nonchalantly, her face ever the stony mask that betrayed nothing. Whispers filtered through the room, and Clarke could see some of the ambassadors who were clearly forced to vote relax infinitesimally, as if this was the better option. Clarke wanted to scream but she had no voice, no place to speak up in this highly dangerous political standoff.

“So be it,” Titus’ deep voice boomed throughout the room. “ _Solo gonplai!_ Warrior against warrior… to the death,” there was no hiding the fear in his eyes, and Clarke felt hers close in resignation, turning her head to press her forehead against Bellamy’s shoulder. The surprise coup had been avoided, but they all knew what would happen next. “Queen Niyah of Azgeda, who will you chose to be your champion?” Titus asked gravely.

“My son,” she replied, and Clarke’s eyes shot open in shock, her jaw dropping. “Roan, prince of Azgeda!” the queen smiled in satisfaction over at her son who was kneeling in chains and Clarke felt Bellamy tense beside her. By naming him challenger she effectively freed him from his imprisonment without any trial, and he was also their most deadly warrior, and at least twice the size of Lexa. Fear skittered down Clarke’s spine. They were doomed.

“ _Heda_ , who will fight for you?” Titus asked quietly as Lexa gazed appraisingly at Roan, who looked like he wasn’t sure if he was thrilled to have been chosen as his mother’s champion. She turned slowly, walking back to her throne and sitting deliberately down on it.

“ _Ai laik Heda,_ ” she began coldly. “ _Noda throdaun gon ai._ ” _No one fights for me._

 _What are we going to do?_ Clarke thought desperately, and her fear was mirrored in Bellamy's face as he met her gaze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you guys forgot how fucking heart breaking that scene at Mt Weather was: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hN9y9-oT6tU
> 
> Also I adapted really heavily from the show this chapter. A lot of the conversations are verbatim, which I'm sure in the land of fanfic is fine, just wanted to be clear about that.
> 
> Lexa is challenged by Niyah:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AoGKteSunNk
> 
> I tried my best to write down the Trigedasleng properly!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, it's finally here. ANOTHER Grounder Bellamy AU that no one asked for, but apparently that's what I really like to write. Writing this fic was like pulling teeth, tbh, so I probably won't continue it, (sorry.) It kept diverging from what I originally wanted to write, (this end product is like 85% different than my original idea, because my characters hate cooperating with me. Like, HATE.) I pretty much had to rewrite it twice, and I kept switching to the present tense?? I blame all the present tense fics I've been reading on here, so if there's some present tense that I haven't edited out please forgive me. I tried to really comb through and fix it all but I may have missed some words.
> 
> Please let me know what you think! 
> 
>  
> 
> Next up in my Works To Be Published: Bellamy's POV for "Three is a Pattern", a possible re-do for Let Go Control (still working through the kinks (haha pun intended) in that story), a Teen Rated (ohmygosh she can write /NON/ EXPLICIT THINGS?!) Bellarke fic, and... a really, REALLY E rated Bellarke canon Arkadia fic where *gasp* Bellamy /isn't/ a grounder. Shocker, I know.  
> Stay tuned peeps.


End file.
